


Hotel California

by krazyk2314



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curious Reader, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Ghosts, Haunted Hotel, Hotels, Protective Dean, Reader Insert, flickering lights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:01:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6595855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krazyk2314/pseuds/krazyk2314
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're staying at an old hotel, when weird things start happening. Confused, but intrigued, you stay, while coming closer to two brothers who are more than they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Checking In

"Miss, can I ask how long your stay will be for?" The front desk concierge asked you as you handed over your reservation papers.

"Two nights." You answered, just as two men strode over to the register next to you. Glancing over, you couldn't help but do a double take. They were both tall, and well built. One had long, shaggy dark hair, while the other's was more spiked, a dirty blonde. They were both dressed in jeans, and flannel shirts, but you could see they packed muscles underneath. You felt your heart beat picking up a little bit as the shorter one turned and gave you a smile, his green eyes vibrant as he took you in.

Blushing, you turned back to the receptionist, taking your papers back, along with your key. "Miss Y/L/N, you are in room 218. Enjoy your stay." He said, and grabbing your suitcases, you made your way to the elevator.

Waiting for it to open, you glanced back to see the two men finishing up their paperwork, grabbing their bags, which was only a duffle bag apiece. Wondering who they were, you knew you would probably never find out. You were never the type of girl who went out of her way to attract a man. You were too shy, and most men just seemed to pass you by.

Heaving a sigh, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the number two but before the doors could close, a hand reached through the doors, pushing them back open. You could only watch as the two men from earlier pushed their way inside, crowding the spacious elevator with their size. "What number?" You asked them.

"Two." The shorter one, the one that had your wiping the drool from your mouth said, his voice deep and husky.

"Already done." You replied, then you stood there awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. The taller man was busy typing away on his phone, leaving you and the other one to pass the short ride.

"The names Dean." He told you, sticking his hand out, and you took it, reveling in the warm and callused hand as his touch sent a shock of electricity coursing through your arm. "That's Sam, my brother."

"MY name's Y/N." You answered, attempting to pull your hand from Dean. It wasn't as if you wanted to end the connection, but his touch was flustering you.

"So Y/N, what are you doing staying in a high class hotel like this all by yourself?" He asked you, just as the elevator dinged.

"I needed some me time." You answered, pulling your suitcase behind you. Dean stayed behind you, his brother following behind.

"Tell me about it. I would love to have some time, all to myself. But my job never really gives me that opportunity." He answered, just as you came to your door.

"This is me." You answered, stopping in front of a dark, wooden door. 

"Hey Dean, you passed our room." Sam yelled, and you turned to see him standing in front of the door next to yours.

"Looks like we're neighbors. Listen, I saw a bar down below. Maybe we could get a drink together later." He asked you, walking backwards as he gave you a huge smile.

"Not tonight. I'm beat." You answered, hating that your answered turned his smile into a frown. "But, could we do it tomorrow?"

His smile returned, as he ran into his brother, and you couldn't contain your chuckle. "Tomorrow sounds great. Say 5?"

Opening your door, you nodded and waved, before shutting the door. Dropping your suitcase, you pressed your back against the door, sighing as you couldn't believe your luck. Here you were, the girl who had never had a regular boyfriend, and the first man you met asked you on a date. Not only that, but he was extremely handsome, and seemed genuine. 

Taking the time to take in your room, you couldn't believe how amazing this place was. Your Mom had told you to take some time for yourself, and she had booked you this amazing place. Your bed was huge, an antique masterpiece of wood that had many intricate designs carved throughout the towering posts. You could imagine this bed residing in a castle in England, or one of those huge Mansions that graced Boston back in the 1800s. The night stand was made out of the same rich, deep wood, with a Tiffany lamp lit on top. There was an armoire across from the bed, and when you opened it up, a TV was on top, with drawers down below to place your belongings. A door to the right of your bed opened up to revel a decadent bathroom, with a bath tub big enough for at least two people comfortably. Instantly, your mind switched to the sight of Dean's green eyes, and his long strong body, and you blushed at the thought. 

Taking your mind off of the green eyed man haunting your thoughts, you started unpacking your belongings, throwing your pajama's onto the bed. You decided a warm, relaxing bath was the perfect way to start your trip.

Turning the bath on, you spotted the complimentary bubble baths on the side. In your life you had never taken the chance to take a bubble bath, and you figured now was a good time to start. Dumping the entire small bottle into the steaming water, you breathed in the scent of lavender, before stripping out of your clothes, tossing them off to the side. Stepping into the almost too hot water, you groaned as it started soothing your muscles that you didn't even know were sore. Leaning back, you closed your eyes, letting the water soothe you. 

Your mind wandered back to the reason you were here in the first place. You had been living a great life. Your apartment was perfect, you had amazing friends, and you were slowly rising the ranks of a prestigious publishing company. However, that all came to a halt when your would be boss decided to try to coerce you, offering to trade a higher position for a few unsavory favors. You had complained, but no one had believed you, and you had ended up quitting your job.

Now here you were, relaxing away in a nice hotel, a very handsome guy in the room next to you, and no idea what your next move would be. But for now, at least, it felt nice to be able to relax, and not think about your next move.

Opening your eyes, you shivered as cold air hit your damp hair. Wondering if somehow the air conditioner had been turned on, you sunk deeper into the warm water, trying to get away from the now frigid air. It was then the two sconce lights high up on the wall started flickering. Shaking it off as tricks of an old hotel, you closed your eyes. But it was the high pitched screaming, right next to your ear that you had you shooting out of the tub, water pooling at your feet as you hastily wrapped a towel around you, looking for who had made that god awful sound. 

You looked left, and then right, but the room was empty. Shaking in fear, and cold, you jumped a mile high when there was a knock at your door. You didn't think twice, you opened the door, and when you saw Dean standing there, you jumped into his arms, needing someone to comfort, and protect you.


	2. You Do What?

You didn't pay any attention to the fact that you were loosely wrapped up in a towel, it being the only thing covering you up from Dean's view. You were too busy launching yourself into his arms, your heart still pounding from your scare.

You hastily noticed he was still dressed in the same jeans and flannel, before you pressed your head tightly to his chest, relieved to feel his arms tighten around you. You felt his head move back and forth, before he whispered into your ear. "Sweetheart, not that I mind having you wet and almost naked in my arms, but maybe the hallway isn't the best place."

You didn't even mind his teasing, you just nodded in understanding. But when he started pushing you back, into your room, you tensed up, fighting against the movement. "No, not back there." You whispered.

"Okay, we don't have to." He agreed, gently steering you down the hallway, keeping you tucked underneath his protective arm. You were shivering, and you weren't sure if it was because of the cool air filtering through the hallway, the scare you had just received, or the fact that you were securely wrapped in Dean's arms.

"Here, you can come calm down in here." He told you, opening the door to his room.

"Hey Dean, what was all the fuss about?" His brother Sam asked, standing up from the chair by the small table, his eyebrow raising when he noticed you and your state of undress.

"Not sure yet. Just needed to get her out of there. But hey Sam, could you go get her key, check the room out?" He asked his brother, as he guided you to the edge of one of their beds. You glanced around, noticing their room was much different than yours. There were two full size iron frame beds against the wall attached to yours, with a long dresser in front of them. A small TV was on top, currently turned to a doctor sitcom. Near the window was a table, and a small fridge.

Dean left you alone for a moment, turning to the dresser, where he pulled out a plain gray t-shirt and a pair of boxers. "Here, this might be more comfortable than the towel. At least until we go back and get your clothes."

You nodded, taking them from him, setting them in your lap, but you made no move to get up and change. "So you heard the scream too?" You asked quietly, your eyes trained on the TV in front of you.

He sat down next to you, forcing your attention on him. "Yeah, I did. I thought it was you."

Shaking your head, you explained. "I decided to take a nice long, bath. But then the air got cooler, a lot cooler. Thinking my air conditioner had gone on, I slid into the water, but the lights started to flicker. Shaking that off as part of an old hotel, I couldn't shake off the fact that something screamed, loud, right next to me. Was it...was it a ghost?" You asked, forcing out the words.

Just then Sam returned, and you decided it would be a good idea to finally change. Sam hadn't brought back any of your clothes, so clutching the t-shirts and boxers tightly to you, you went into their bathroom, shaking a little bit. You hoped whatever happened to you in your bathroom wouldn't be repeated her.

Quickly you slid the towel off, throwing the t-shirt on, chuckling when it came almost to your knees. Slipping the boxers on, you left the bathroom, just in time to see the brothers arguing about something.

"What is it?" You asked, them stopping as they noticed you. Dean came forward, his eyes lighting up as he took in the view of you wearing his clothes.

"That's my favorite outfit of yours so far." He told you, biting his lip as he stared at you. Blushing under his heated gaze, you didn't let it distract you.

"What were you guys talking about?" You asked, as Dean guided you back to the edge of the bed, where you sat down.

"Well, I need to tell you something. And you're probably going to think we're nuts." Dean started, rubbing the back of his head.

"No I won't." You argued, placing your hand gently on his arm to solidify your words.

"This might be hard to believe, but Sam and I we hunt things for a living. Not your every day hunters either, but ghosts, vampires, werewolves. You name it, we hunt it." Dean told you, his eyes busy searching yours. You weren't sure if he was begging you to believe him, or waiting for you to laugh him off the bed. 

"Really?" Was all you said, as you took a moment to process it.

He nodded. "Yeah, and we're pretty sure there is at least one ghost haunting this hotel. That's why we're here. Listen, you can stay with us tonight, and then we will help you pack your stuff up tomorrow." 

You sat there, your mouth open. "So, you tell me that all the folklore monsters are real, and that there are ghosts here, and you want me to run with my tail between my legs?" You finally asked, glancing between both men. Sam was standing at the far wall, leaning against it, his hands in his pockets. Dean was sitting next to you, his face down so you couldn't see what he was thinking, or feeling. But at your words he looked up, a surprised look gracing his face.

"Well, yeah. Most people freak out over news like that." Was all he could say.

Squaring your shoulders, you stared him down. "Just to let you know, I'm not most people. I always believed we weren't the only things to exist. I want to help you hunt it."

"But you might get hurt." Dean argued, and you just shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't think so. I think you will protect me. But please, I need this." You begged, wanting the chance to live a life like those in the novels you had helped publish.

"If we let you do this, there will need to be rules." Dean told you, while Sam rolled his eyes in the background. "First, you stay behind us at all times, following our lead. Got it?"

You nodded, waiting for the next rule. "Salt will protect you from ghosts. If we tell you to stay inside of the ring of salt, no complaints."

"Stay in the salt. Got it." You confirmed. 

"Okay." Was all he said, and you threw your arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tight in a hug.

"Oh my god, thank you so much!! You won't regret it, I promise you!." You squealed, as his arms came to wrap around you. "What do we do first?"

"Sleep." Sam answered, taking off his flannel shirt, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. The thought of returning to your room, alone, had you pulling back from Dean, and wrapping your hair around your finger nervously.

"Do you want to stay with us tonight?" Dean asked, and you nodded, hoping you weren't coming across as too eager.

"Yeah, I might be helping hunt a ghost, but I'm not sure I'm ready to face my room just yet." You admitted.

Dean nodded. "You can bunk with me for the night. If that's okay?"

Was it okay? It was more than okay, you thought to yourself. You couldn't believe that you were sleeping in the same bed with this handsome, caring man who you had only met earlier that night. Things had certainly changed for you, and you were excited to see where tomorrow would take you.


	3. Morning Wake Up Call

You were incredibly warm when you woke up, and for a moment you forgot where you were. The mattress was harder than you remembered yours being, the sheets smoother and softer. But it wasn't that that had you blinking your eyes open. It was the heavy weight of an arm across your back, and the warm, body currently spooning you. Your legs were tangled together, and you couldn't tell where you ended and he began. 

As you tensed up, wondering who this strange person was, and how they had gotten into bed with you, events from last night started to flash in your mind, reminding you that you had said yes to sharing a bed with Dean.

Truthfully, if it hadn't been for the ghost that had supposedly hiding in your room, you wouldn't have taken him up on his offer. But now, with the light beginning to shine through the window, you took in the room, wondering if you had made a horrible mistake. You could see Sam still asleep in the next bed, the blankets kicked around his waist as he laid sprawled, taking up the complete surface of the queen sized bed. 

You had never been one to make rash decisions, but it seemed like you had made one last night. After hearing that terrifying scream, you must have lost all common sense, because you would have never said yes to sleeping in the same bed as a stranger. Especially a stranger who had just told you they hunted monsters for a living.

Gently lifting the arm up, you tried to slip from underneath it, wanting nothing more than to go back into your room, and try to figure out exactly what was going on. It seemed to take forever, but soon you were at the edge of the bed, your feet touching the ground. Standing up, you look back to see Dean shuffle in his sleep, searching for the warmth of your body that had left him. 

In a way you felt bad for leaving like this. In your heart you seemed to know that these two men were just trying to help you. But your brain was telling you that you were being ridiculous and naive to think that these two men would take a stranger under their wing, and protect them from something that doesn't even exist.

Grabbing the key Sam had brought back from your room, you tip toe to the door, holding your breath when you noticed both men turn in their sleep. Your hand on the door knob, you turned it, wincing as the door hinge squeaked when you started opening it. While the sound wasn't super loud, it sounded like a siren in the quiet room, and you glanced back just in time to see both men jumping out of their beds, a gun drawn in Sam's hands.

Your eyes growing huge at the site of the gun, you yanked the door open, rushing down the short distance to your room, fumbling with the key. As it finally fit into the lock, you could hear Dean's voice calling your name. Glancing at him with wide eyes, you slipped into your room, shutting the door.

It was only seconds later when you heard a hesitant knock on your door. "Y/N, what's a matter? Please let me in." Dean asked from the other side of the door.

"I'm sorry Dean, I'm just not sure I want to." You admitted, even though you stayed there with your back against it. In your heart you knew you were acting stupid, but you couldn't help it.

"Listen, I don't know what happened. One minute I was asleep, the next you were running like we were going to kill you. Please just tell me what happened."

"Truthfully?" You started. "I guess it was waking up this morning, with your arms around me, and realizing that I just met you, and I hardly know anything about you. Sure, you told me you hunt Monsters, but waking up this morning I realized how far fetched that sounds. So, I'm sorry, but I just wanted a little bit of time to think all these things through." 

You heard him sigh on the other side, and for a moment you contemplated opening the door, just to see the expression on his face. "I know it's a lot to take in. How about I send Sam for some breakfast, then we can talk again. I know we just met, but please, I don't want you to leave our lives yet." He pleaded, and you found yourself opening the door, staring into Dean's eyes, which seemed to brighten when they noticed you.

"Yeah, I would like that. I'm sorry I ran off." You apologized.

He shrugged your apology off. "Don't apologize. It's a lot to take in. But why don't you come back, we can have breakfast, and I will tell you everything you want to know."

You nodded. "Sure, just let me get dressed." He nodded, and started to move away, but you remembered the voice from last night, and all of a sudden you didn't want to be left alone in your room. "Dean?" 

He turned back, a questioning look on his face. "Can you please stay? I know it sounds stupid, but after last night, I'm not sure I want to be alone in this room."

"Sure." He said, stepping inside your room. You left him at the door, before pulling the drawer open, and grabbing the simple outfit of jeans, and a t-shirt. It was one of your favorites, an old faded band t-shirt. It was your favorite band, one that your dad had gotten you hooked on. You bit your lip, hesitant about using the bathroom to change, but you didn't want to undress in front of Dean.

He was still standing at the door, but his eyes were glued to your every movement, his arms crossed as he lazed against it. "Dean, I know this is stupid, but do you think you could turn around?" You blushed.

Without a word, he turned facing the door. Slipping his t-shirt and boxers off, you slid your jeans up your legs, before sliding your bra into place. As you grabbed your shirt, you felt a presence behind you, someone breathing on your neck. "I thought I told you to turn around. Why didn't you stay by the door?" You asked Dean.

"I'm still by the freaking door." Dean said, causing goosebumps to rise along your skin. If Dean was still at the door, than who was standing behind you?


	4. Seeing is Believing

If Dean was still by the door than who was standing behind you? You weren't exactly sure you wanted to find out, but still you slowly turned. Not sure what you were expecting, you knew it wasn't the shimmering person in front of you. She was about your height, with long, curly, black hair. She was wearing a long, white nightgown, and she was flicking like a candle, as if she was having trouble staying visible.

You stared at her transfixed, noticing her raising her arm, her hand getting closer and closer to your chest. "Who are you?" You asked her, hearing heavy footsteps from the other end of the room.

"He will never love you." She said, her voice eerily foreboding.

"What?" You asked, but before you could get an answer, you felt a cold, burning sensation in your chest, and you couldn't breathe. Clutching your chest, you tried to take away the pain, the clenching that was taking place around your heart.

"He will never love you." She repeated it, and black dots started swimming through your vision. 

"Dean." You whispered weakly, just as a long, iron bar swung from high above, cutting the ghost in half, vanishing her. The grip on your heart vanished, but you still felt weak, your knees giving out. 

"Y/N!" Dean yelled, noticing your buckling knees. Dropping the bar, he caught you just as you collapsed, holding you tight to his chest. "Hold on sweetheart, you'll be fine." He told you, but you could see the worry in his eyes just as yours closed and you knew no more.

____________________________________________________

"Sam, that ghost had her hand wrapped around her heart! And she kept repeating these words, but I couldn't hear what they were! Maybe we shouldn't involve her, I don't want her getting hurt any more." You could hear Dean saying in a hushed voice as you slowly came to. Your entire body hurt as you lay still in bed, your eyes closed as you took stock of what was going on.

You now completely believed Sam and Dean. You had been on the edge earlier that morning, but seeing that ghost, and feeling her cold hand wrapped around your heart had been enough to cement the opinion that ghosts were real. Which meant that other monsters were real, and Sam and Dean truly hunted them. 

"Dean, calm down. She seems fine, we'll check her out when she wakes up. And shouldn't you let her decide? Maybe after this morning she will run home, and we will never see her again." Sam told his brother, while you kept your eyes closed.

The bed you were currently laying on shifted, as if somebody had sat down on it. A hand was gently placed on your shoulder, brushing the hair back from your face. "I know that's a possibility. But I hope it's not the direction she takes. I know it's only been a day, but Sammy, I really like this girl." Dean said, and you felt your heart beat rise at his words. 

Pretending to wake up, you moaned, before stretching your arms, feeling Dean's touch vanish from your shoulder. Blinking your eyes, you turned onto your back, staring up into a pair of olive green eyes.

"Hi." You said softly, losing yourself in his gaze.

"Hi yourself." He answered. "How are you feeling?"

He slowly sat back, giving you room to sit up. You scooted back, until your back was against the head board. Sam came over, handing you a glass of water, and some aspirin. "A little sore. But at least I believe you now." You answered.

"Can you tell us about her?" Sam asked you, perching on the edge of the other bed, his elbows on his knees as he waited your answer.

"Well, at first it got so cold, and I thought that Dean was standing right behind me. But when I turned, I saw this woman, with long, beautiful dark hair, wearing a long, white nightgown. She was raising her hand, and she kept repeating the phrase, "He will never love you." 

"What did she mean by that? Do you have a boyfriend or a husband back home?" Sam asked, his gaze not on you anymore, but on his brother who had tensed up beside you.

"I have no idea what she meant, because there is no significant other back home." You told them, feeling Dean relax at the news.

"Well, at least this gives us something to go on. Dean, why don't you start looking through the old archives down in the library, while I look on the laptop?" Sam suggested.

You moved to get out of bed, realizing that at some point in time, someone had been nice enough to put your shirt on you. "What can I do?" You asked, and they both looked at you in surprise.

"What?" You countered. "I don't want to sit here and do nothing. Give me a job!" 

Sam glanced over to his brother, and you followed his gaze. "Well, we weren't sure if you would want to stick around, after what happened." Dean said, his gaze on his lap, never once looking up at you, and you wondered if he was anxious about your answer.

"I don't want to run away. I want to help. If this ghost is hurting innocent people, I want to help stop her." You said, even though that was only part of your reasoning. The main part was the pair of green eyes that finally looked up at you, full of hope and another emotion you weren't quite sure you could name yet. You had just met Dean Winchester, and you weren't ready to leave him behind yet, even if that did mean you had to deal with a ghost.


	5. Learning as You Go

"So you sit around and look at books and computers for hours?" You asked, as you turned the page of the third book of the day. After your speech of wanting to help, Dean had pulled you along, leaving Sam behind to search around the internet.

"Yeah, it's not the most glamorous part of the job, but it's what gets things done." He told you, as he tossed another heavy book to the side. The two of you had been lucky, the hotel kept a nice sized library, with a lot of books on it's history. You and Dean had combed through most of it, looking for the mysterious girl who was killing off people staying at the hotel.

"I really don't mind." You told him. It kind of reminds me of my old job. I used to spend hours going through manuscripts, each day. This seems a little more exciting."

"You're perfect for this job." He told you, his green eyes staring over the book towards you. "Not that I want to talk anyone into hunting, hell I would rather talk you out of it. But you adapted really well, and you would be great at the research part with Sammy. It would be great to have you around."

Blushing under the compliment, you decided to dig a little deeper. "Is that the only reason you would want to keep me around?" You said softly.

He shook his head, reaching over to grab your hand. "No. It's just an excuse to keep you around me a little longer. I really enjoy having you around." 

"I like being around." You answered, but contrary to your words, you leaned back, your hand slipping from Dean's. He glanced at you confused, but then understanding dawned when Sam plunked down in the seat next to him.

"Have you guys found anything?" Sam asked, placing his laptop down on the table in front of him.

Dean shook his head." Nada. This place keeps good records, but they are full of famous people who stayed here, renovations made, things like that. The happy memories. Nothing about who might have died here."

Sam nodded, before opening his laptop. "I was afraid of that. But I think I might have found something. I was looking up obituaries, and I found one that was printed in 1901. Did her clothes seem that old fashioned to you?"

You thought back to the girl you had seen. "Her nightgown could have been from that era. It was white, and extra frilly, with long capped sleeves. It went down to her ankles. Her hair was long, almost waist length, and curly too, as if she had taken it down from a fancy updo."

Sam was busy typing away on his keyboard, but soon he was turning the computer your direction. "Did she look like this?" He asked you, and you pulled it closer to you, peering in at the grainy black and white picture. It looked like the same woman, with her high cheekbones, and full lips. She had a sad, shy smile about her, but in truth she was a very beautiful person. Instead of the white nightgown she was wearing a fancy gown, one of an undetermined color. Her hair was placed casually atop her head, trendils framing her face.

"Yeah, this looks a lot like her." You said, but before Sam could pull his laptop back you stopped him, reading the obituary. Her name was Anna Wilkinson, and she was only 19 when she died. Her parents had been wealthy socialites, one of the most prominent families from Maine. They had been in town, meeting up with her fiancee when she had taken her own life. 

"That's horrible." You whispered, feeling sorry for the girl, wondering what had been so horrible that she didn't want to live anymore. "Can you find anything else out about her?" 

He nodded, pulling it back. "Only that she was cremated which poses a problem. But I will keep digging."

"Well, now that we know who she is, maybe we can finally find something in these books." Dean said, and you nodded, but before you did any more looking, you stood up.

Dean peered up at you. "Where are you going?"

Your back hurt from bending over the table so long, and you stretched your neck as you explained. "I just need a little break. I'm going to grab something from my room, then I will be right back." You said, even though you were a little nervous to be heading back to your room.

"I can come with you." Dean told you, pushing his chair back.

You waved him off. "No, I will be quick. It's okay."

He nodded, but didn't seem happy. "Well, at least take these." He told you, handing you a weird looking knife, and a container full of salt. You must have given him a weird look, because he started explaining. "The knife is Iron, which repels ghosts. Also the salt does the same thing. If she shows up, slash at her with the knife, make yourself a circle with the salt, and call me. Promise?"

You nodded, before turning and heading for the stairs. As you got closer to your door, your feet started dragging, and your heart started pounding. You had put on a good show for Sam and Dean, but truthfully, you were scared to death to enter your room again, especially by yourself. But you wanted your cell phone, and a sweatshirt to wear down in the library where it was a little chilly.

Your hand on the door knob, you took a deep settling breath, telling yourself that you were a hunter in training, you could do this. Glancing up and down the hallway, you pulled the knife out when you saw you were alone. Pushing the door opened, you stepped inside. The room felt normal, no cold spots, or as if someone was watching you.

Moving fast, you grabbed your cell phone off of the nightstand, along with a charger and your purse. Opening a drawer, you went to pull out your old, comfortable sweatshirt, when you found something on it that hadn't been there before. Squinting your eyes in confusion, you bent down, retrieving the old, leathery book that was now laying on top of your sweatshirt. Picking it up, you turned it so you could see the cover, noticing the heart that had been branded onto the leather, but no other clues as to what it was. 

Carefully opening the first page, you saw the careful flowing handwriting. It read Anna Wilkinson's personal journal. Gasping in surprise, you flipped to the next page. It was dated August 31, 1900, almost exactly a year before she died. Wondering if the ghost had decided you were friend, not foe, you grasped it to your chest, forgetting all about your sweatshirt. Your phone in your purse, you locked the door, and rushed down the stairs, almost bumping into an elderly couple who gave you a dirty look. "People these days." They muttered at your back, but you ignored them.

Rounding the door to the library, you saw Dean's eyes scanning the entrance, no doubt awaiting your return worriedly. Upon seeing you he relaxed, his shoulders slouching a little in relief. You skidded to a stop in front of him, holding the book out.

"Sam, Dean, I think I have something that could help us!" You exclaimed, earning glares from the rest of the libraries patrons. You handed the journal over. "This was in my room, on top of my clothes actually. I have no idea how it got there."

As you talked you sat back down in your seat across from them, watching as they gingerly flipped to the front page. "Wait, this is her journal? I wonder how it got in your room?" Sam said, leaning close to his brother to read along with him.

"I'm not sure, but the first entry is dated almost a year before her death. Maybe there is something in there that can help us." You reiterated, happy that you were able to contribute something to the hunt.

Dean set the book down, a frown on his face. You were surprised to see it, and you wondered what put it there. "But if she gave this to us, to help solve our case, then why did she attack you? And why is she killing people?"


	6. Another Ghost

"Maybe she isn't the one killing people. Maybe there is another ghost, and she is trying to warn us." Sam suggested, and you agreed with him.

"If that's true, than that means we have another ghost to find and salt and burn." Dean said.

Grabbing the journal back, you held it tight to your chest, a little honored that she had trusted you enough to give it to you. "Well, in all of your research have you heard of another person that died here?"

By the frowns on both of their faces, you knew the answer without them saying a word. "So, we're back to square one." You muttered.

"Exactly." Dean agreed, slamming his hand on the table in front of him, earning more pointed glares.

"Well, I guess the best thing for me to do is read this book." You muttered, but truthfully you didn't mind.

Dean stood up. "While you read, Sam and I will go scope the place out. Maybe we can find a clue or something about who the other ghost is." You nodded, watching as they walked away. You had to admit, you really enjoyed the view, but you wished they would lose the coats. Seeing Dean this morning in just a t-shirt had brought a blush to your face, and you really wanted to enjoy the way the t-shirt tightened across his strong shoulders once again.

Shaking your head to get rid of all those wayward emotions, you set the journal down in front of you, turning to the front entry. At first, all the entries were the same, talks about dress fittings, and social etiquette. She seemed like a sweet girl who practiced piano, and was an accomplished singer. Her Mom was pushing her into a debutante lifestyle while she wanted nothing more than to study music and find someone sweet and kind to fall in love with. Her Dad was gone a lot, working or socializing, and in a way you felt sorry for her.

It wasn't until two months before her death that her journal entries seemed to change. She stopped talking about her music, concentrating more on the young men she fancied while at the various dinner parties she was forced to attend. There was one in particular that kept getting written about. A certain Andrew Dovington, who was the son of a prominent San Francisco shipping tycoon. He seemed to be courting her, but from what you could grasp she was completely happy about it. One entry in particular seemed to stand out more than the others. "Andrew was at the gala again tonight, and he forced me to dance with him two times. He wanted a third, but Mother stopped that from happening. I can't imagine what Father would have thought of that disgrace. Andrew seemed very upset, his face becoming extremely red, and I feared that he may raise his hand. Mother loves him, but he scares me."

It was her very last entries that you were able to put together more of a picture. Her family had arrived at this hotel, which used to be the private home of a family friend. They had stayed here, as guests, and it was supposed to be then that her engagement with Andrew would be announced. She wrote about it, never once sounding excited, but more reserved to the fact. The night before she died, her tone changed, a sense of urgency to her words. 

"I can't do this. I can't marry Andrew. Tonight I tried to ask him a question, and he became so enraged he hit me. I don't care what my parents say, I'm calling off the engagement tomorrow. I can survive on my music." She had written, and that was the last thing she had ever posted. Wondering what had happened, if Andrew had really caused her death, or somebody else had. No matter what happened, you felt sorry for the girl whose life had not been her own, and had ended too tragically.

You were so caught up in the story you had just read, that you didn't hear the footsteps coming up beside you. When a hand clasped your shoulder, you jumped, raising the book over your head, reading to bean the person who had touched you.

"Woah, it's just me." Dean said, taking his hand off of you.

Sighing with relief, you placed the book back down. "Sorry Dean. I was just too caught up with the book. Did you guys find anything?"

He shook his head sadly. "The staff are super tight lipped, and the only old pictures they have are of the family, none of the early visitors."

"Well, according to this book, she was here when the family still owned the property." You told him, waving the book as Sam sat down across from you.

"Did it happen to mention who her murderer was?" Sam asked, a little sass to his words.

You nodded, proud that you had something to share. "Not exactly, but it does point fingers at a certain person." 

Sam waved his hand in front of him, asking for more information. Dean glared at him before sitting down next to you. 

"His name was Andrew Dovington. He was her beau, at least he was because of her parents. She didn't seem to care for him too much, and he seemed a little aggressive. Her last journal entry was saying she was planning on running away from the engagement, and living on her own. Which was extremely brave for a girl of her upbringing." You explained.

"So I will look up this Andrew dude, see what I can find out. What do you two plan on doing?" Sam asked, pulling out his laptop again.

"We will go look at pictures again, maybe try to find some different books. It should take quite awhile." Dean said, grabbing your hand, your hand tingling from his touch. You let yourself be pulled to your feet, following along behind as you left the large library. Dean passed the main entry foyer, and the stairs, heading towards the back of the hotel.

"Dean, where are we going?" You asked him, and he turned to look at you, giving you a mischievous look that had you melting.

"You'll see." Was all he said, as he kept on moving, down a darkened hallway, with old fashioned sconces lining the walls. Stopping suddenly, you almost ran into him, but stopped yourself just in time. "Here we are." He said, and you glanced around him, noticing a nice restaurant in the room in front of you. It was a romantic setting, full of small rounded, white table clothed tables, candles the main lighting.

"I thought we could get to know each other a little better. Maybe share some pie." Dean suggested, seeming a little nervous.

You were surprised, but extremely touched by the thought. "Wait, I thought we were going to be doing research?" You asked him.

"Well, we are. Kinda of. There are some old pictures in here. I thought we could do both at once." He suggested, and you answered with a smile, letting him tug you into the room.


	7. Sneaking in a Break

Once the host had shown you and Dean to a table, you both sat there nervously. You had never been one to handle first dates well, and even though you knew Dean, you were still feeling a little awkward. He must have been feeling the same thing, his finger was currently tracing the lip of his glass, almost a slight blush to his cheeks.

Both of you were a little relieved when the waiter came over, asking for your drink orders. Dean looked at you, letting you order first. Ordering a beer, you turned to see a surprised look on his face. He ordered the same before his attention turned back to you.

It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying with those big green eyes gazing right at you. "Y/N?" He asked, a slight smile on his face as he waited for your attention.

"Um, sorry, got lost there for a moment." You muttered, turning slightly pink.

"It's alright. I was just saying I was surprised you ordered a beer. I would have pegged you as a wine drinker." He said.

You gave him a disgusted face. "Wine? No way. I've never been a fan of the stuff. If I'm going to drink, I prefer beer or whiskey."

"My type of girl." Dean muttered as the waiter brought your food. "I was just thinking we could order dessert, that way we can have dinner with Sam later."

You nodded, not caring what you ate with him as long as you were able to spend some time with him. "That's okay. I'll just take a slice of apple pie, with ice cream please."

Dean ordered the same, before giving you another look. "What?" You asked, a little flustered at the look.

"You're perfect. You didn't freak out too much over the ghost. You prefer beer and whisky to wine, and you just ordered pie. I think I might be in love." He said, holding a hand over his heart, and you blushed, waving away his words.

"So, besides loving pie and beer, what else do you love?" He asked you, and you shrugged.

"I, umm, well, I like to read." You stuttered, hating talking about yourself.

"I kinda figured that, the way you lit up over that journal, and your job. But what else?" He asked you, just as your desserts were brought out.

Taking a bite, you took your time chewing it, your eyes closing at how amazing it tasted. Opening them back up, you saw Dean, with his fork halfway to his mouth, his green eyes darkened with something you couldn't quite describe.

"What about you?" You asked, turning the conversation over to him.

"What's there to say?" He answered before shoving a huge forkful into his mouth. "I love my car, my classic rock, and killing things that go bump in the night."

Licking off a drop of ice cream from your spoon, you set it down. "Sounds like you're a straight forward type of guy."

He shook his head, pushing his empty plate away. Checking to make sure nobody was close enough to hear, he leaned forward, and you followed suit, enjoying the closeness. "Not usually. With my job, there are so many secrets, so many times that I have to lie to everyone. It's nice not to have to do that with you." 

"Dean, Y/N, what are you guys doing?" Sam interrupted, and you both jumped, sitting back in your seats. You both had identical looks of guilt on your face as you looked Sam's way.

"Well we were going to be looking for clues here but we got a little sidetracked." Dean tried explaining, but Sam just rolled his yes.

"While you two were goofing off, there was another death." He said, and your happy mood plummeted, ashamed that you were in here flirting with Dean while someone out there needed your help.

"What?" Dean exclaimed. "Who was it?"

Sam pulled a chair over, sitting down at your table, waving away the waiter who had come over to see if he needed anything. "Some girl named Sarah Wynkoop. She was 20 and was here with her fiancee."

Your gaze dropped to the table, sad for the life that was taken so rudely. "That's horrible." You whispered.

Dean stood up, throwing some bills onto the table. "Well, let's get going. Have they taken the body away yet?"

Sam shook his head. "Not yet. I just happened to be by the front desk when her fiancee called it in." He stood up, and you followed suit, following them out into the hallway. 

"Let's go get the FBI threads on and head over there before they take her body away. Maybe we can figure something out." Dean ordered, turning towards the stairs.

You stopped, and it took him a couple of steps to realize you weren't behind him. His eyes full of worry. "What is it?"

"FBI thread?" You whispered, making sure no one else could hear.

He sighed, before coming closer to you, taking your hand in his to comfort you. "Can we please talk about this in the room. Time is not on our side right now." 

You nodded, loving the fact that he kept your hand tucked in his as the two of you climbed the stairs behind Sam. Once you reached their room, you stood off to the side as they pulled suits out of the closets. Sam went in the bathroom to change, while a shrugging Dean decided to strip in front of you.

Your mouth grew dry as you watched as Dean slipped out of his flannel, then started peeling off his boots. You licked your lips as Dean started unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down over his lean bow legs. He must have known what he was doing to you, because as soon as he stepped out of them, standing only in a tight black t-shirt and his boxer briefs, he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Like what you see?" He teased, making you blush. Chuckling, he pulled on his suit pants, before turning his back on you, stripping out of his t-shirt. You watched his broad and sculpted back move as he tugged on his pristine white t-shirt, just as Sam came out of the bathroom, looking very dapper in his suit.

"So, I didn't know you guys dressed up as FBI agents. Isn't that illegal?" You asked, as Dean put the finishing touches on his suit, making sure his badge was in his pocket.

"Extremely. But it's one of the best ways to find out information. You stay here, while Sam and I go check out the crime scene." Dean said, surprising you as he leaned forward, and pressed his lips lightly to yours before following his brother out the door.


	8. Getting Close

After they had left, you perched on the bed, a container of salt clutched tight in your hand. You might believe in ghosts now, and you might now how to protect yourself from them, but they were still new enough to freak you out, and you hated being alone.

Your hands trembling a little, you turned the TV on, wanting something to take your mind off of the fact that you were alone, and a ghost seemed to haunt the room next to you. Just hours ago you had been contemplating the life of a hunter, traveling the road with Dean. And yet, here you were, scared of a ghost, trembling and hiding in fear.

Throwing the remote and the salt down on the bed in frustration at yourself, you stood up. You knew if you even had the chance to travel with Dean you would need to toughen up, and be able to take care of yourself. 

It was then the realization came to you, and you slumped back on the bed. What if this was just some sort of fling, and he was expecting to say bye to you at the end of it all. You had only known Dean for a short amount of time, but you could imagine a life with him. You knew you were already falling for him. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed or smiled, his huge contagious smile when he found something funny, and the way you could tell he cared about family. He made butterflies swarm around in your stomach, and you weren't ready to let him go yet.

"He will never love you." A familiar ethereal voice said from beside you, scaring you out of your thoughts about Dean. Glancing up, you saw Anna staring down at you, a sad expression on her pale face.

Your first instinct was to run, but you stayed still, trying to calm your fast beating heart. "Why do you say that?" You stuttered, your hand slowly inching towards the forgotten container of salt.

"Men don't love. They use you." She answered, as a tear fell down her face.

"That's not true." You whispered, but even as you said the words you knew what she said might be true for you and Dean. "Thank you for your journal. Can you tell me who is killing these people?"

She shook her head. "It is true. I thought he loved me, but he used me."

"Is he the one killing?" You asked her. She nodded her head, confirming your question.

"What happened?" You asked, but the door slammed open and she faded away.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Dean asked, his rock salt shotgun pointed out in front of him. He must have seen her before she vanished.

Wiping a tear away, you hadn't realized you had been crying. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He sat down next to you, placing the gun down on the bed as Sam shut the door. "You don't seem fine. You're crying."

"She's so sad, my heart breaks for her." You explained.

"What did she say this time?" Sam asked, as he sat down in one of the chairs.

"Pretty much the same thing. The same story about he won't love you. That men will just use you and cast you aside. I asked her if Andrew was doing the killing and she said yes."

Dean took your hand in his own, comforting you with his touch. "Who does she keep talking about? I know you said you didn't have a boyfriend."

You couldn't tell him that the ghost was talking about him. You weren't sure how he would take it, and you weren't ready to hear his excuses as to why he would leave you behind.

"It's not important." You answered, missing the hurt look that crossed his face.

"So she thinks you have feelings for a certain person, but he's going to cast you aside. Just like Andrew did." Sam reiterated, glancing between you and Dean, tucking his hair behind his ear as he contemplated the news.

"Yeah. But we don't have to worry about her. We need to worry about Andrew. He probably killed that girl. Who knows who he will go after next!" You exclaimed, needing to be doing something. You might not be an expert at this hunting thing, but you knew you needed to start moving before someone else got killed.

Sam stayed silent for a moment, before looking towards his brother, both of them silently communicating with each other. "What?" You asked, hating to be left out.

"I have an idea of who he might go after next." Sam explained as Dean jumped off of the bed, and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"What's up with him?" You asked, skipping past what Sam had just said.

Sighing, Sam explained even more. "He knows who is probably next. And he doesn't like it. Because we both think he will come after you. Especially since the ghost has been trying to communicate with you."

You reeled back in shock. After this short time of learning how to hunt, you had never thought you would turn into the targeted victim. "Why?" Was all you could say.

Dean had come back out from the bathroom, standing next to Sam, and you hated the fact that he already seemed to be spacing himself from you.

"Well." Sam started, seeming uncomfortable. "Dean, why don't you take over. I'm going to head back down to the library for a little bit."

Dean glared at his brother as he left, staying silent long after he was gone. "Dean?" You questioned quietly.

"Fine." He muttered, turning to look at you. "We have a couple of reasons why we think so. First, you fit the type of victim he's been picking. Young, beautiful. Second, you've already been in contact with the ghost of his fiancee, and she's even given you her journal."

"Is that all?" You asked him, because you could see it wasn't.

He shook his head. "No, it isn't. Each of the victims had men who were falling in love with them, or were just engaged or married. Fresh in love." 

You weren't sure exactly what he was hinting at. "Well, then why would he be coming after me? I just told you I don't have a boyfriend." You said. Inside you were shaking, wondering if he was really going to admit he had feelings for you.

"Well." He muttered, rubbing his hand across and down his mouth, looking flustered. "I know we haven't known each other for long." He started, but then stopped. You waited for him to start back up again, but the silence dragged on, and you couldn't handle it anymore. 

"Yeah, but?" You asked him, hoping he would finally continue.

"Damn it." He muttered. "I'm not good at doing this." He said as he paced the room in front of you. Feeling sorry for the frustrated man, you rose to your feet, and grabbed his hands, stopping him.

"Dean, stop. If it's that hard you don't have to say anything. I get it." You told him, your heart automatically jumping to conclusions.

"You do?" He asked, his green eyes searching yours.

"Yeah. I know that you travel through places, that you never really settle down. That you don't have time for a relationship. I understand." You mumbled quietly.

"What?" He asked, his voice sounding shocked. "That isn't it at all. Well, that used to be true. But not with you." He told you, and you looked up, staring into his eyes hopefully.

"I never thought I would have the chance to settle down with a girl. Hell, I never wanted to. My life isn't really a life. I travel around with my brother, hunting things. It's no place to try and have a relationship. Let alone the fact that monsters will try to come after you because your connected to me." He said. 

"And now?" You asked.

"Now I think I might have finally found someone I want to fight to have a life with. If she will have me?" He ended it with a question, and you nodded.

"You don't know how scared I was that you would push me to the side as soon as this hunt was over." You admitted, before you were pulled to his chest, his arms wrapping tight around your back. You followed suit, wrapping yours around his waist, pressing your cheek tightly to his flannel covered chest. You felt his chin rest softly against the top of your head, and you wanted to purr in contentment. 

"We will have plenty of things to talk about, to figure out. But first, one thing at a time." He told you, and you tilted your head up until you were staring into his eyes. His head slowly tipped down, before pressing his lips softly to yours. It was a soft kiss, a getting to know the shape of your mouth, the softness of your lips type of kiss. You hadn't expected something so gentle from Dean, but the slight touch of his plump, warm lips to yours had all the thoughts flying from your mind.

The kiss didn't last as long as you wanted, and soon he was pulling away, smiling down at you. "I liked the first thing." You told him, wiggling your eyebrows at him, and he chuckled down at you.

"Me too." He answered, just as Sam opened the door and stuck his head in the doorway, making sure it was safe to come back in.


	9. Conference Time

After Sam had come back into the room, you separated yourself from Dean. Not because you wanted to, but because you knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself around him. All you wanted to do right now was run your hand up and down his arm, or reach over and grab his hand. But you held it in, listening to the brother's conversation instead.

"Sam, I'm not sure I like using her as bait." Dean argued.

"It's not like we're doing it on purpose. We are pretty sure he's going to go after her anyways. We just need to be ready for it!" Sam replied back, while you sat there, glancing back and forth between the brothers, wondering if they would ever let you in on the conversation. Because it was mainly about you, and you figured you should at least have a say in the final outcome.

"True, but I still don't have to like it!" Dean said, just as you cleared your throat. Both men looked your way, seeming to have forgotten that you were still in the room with them.

"Guys, I know you're the experience hunters here, but it is my life on the line right now. And I would like to have some sort of say in what happens. And I want to be the bait. I know that he will probably come for me, and I want to help stop him so he can't hurt anyone else."

Sam gave Dean a pointed look, before turning back to you. "Thank you. I want you to know we will do everything we can to keep you safe."

Seeming jealous of his brother, Dean grabbed your hands, forcing your attention away from Sam, turning it on him. His voice was a hushed whisper when he spoke, and you wondered if he didn't want his brother to hear what he was saying. "Listen, I know we haven't known each other very long. And that we are moving kind of fast. But I can't imagine anything happening to you, and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

You blushed under his intense gaze. "Thank you Dean, that means a lot. But now, what do I need to do? And how long do you think before he comes after me?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I'm really not sure. This vengeful spirit hasn't really had any sort of schedule, so it could be anytime. We need to be prepared."

Dean was running his hand along his mouth as he thought. "Most couples were freshly in love, right?" He asked, and Sam confirmed it with a nod. "But then, they got into a little spat, and the guy left, leaving the woman alone in their room?"

"That's what each eye witness had said." Sam agreed.

Dean turned to look at you, a curious expression on his face. "So, what I'm thinking is we need Sam to leave, try to find what he's still attached to here. You and I will set up an argument, then I will leave, going into your room. When he arrives, you will knock on the wall, and I will come over, and hopefully we can trap him until Sam can salt and burn the item."

"But we don't even know what the item is?" You replied, a little frustrated.

Sam had a huge smile on his face, like he was the cat that caught the bird. "But while you guys were doing whatever it was, and please don't tell me, while I was gone. I found out something very important."

"And?" Both you and Dean said at the same time.

"And, he has his own person cigarette case that is part of the mini museum here." Sam answered, all smug with his new found knowledge.

"What the hell?" Dean yelled. "Why didn't you tell us that earlier?"

Sam just shrugged. "So, we have our plan. Now when should we act on it?"

You just listened in, knowing they had much experience with this. Instead, you stared Dean's way, enjoying the way his muscle in his jaw clenched as he argued with his brother, or the way he licked his plump bottom lip before he spoke.

"Y/N? Are you listening to anything we are saying?" Dean asked, catching you staring his way.

Blushing hard, you ducked your head, letting your hair cover your flaming face. "Sorry, I wasn't."

You could hear the throaty chuckle of Dean, before he leaned forward, and tucked your hair behind your ear. "We were just saying we were going to get some dinner, hang out here for a couple of hours before we start with our plan."

"Oh, okay." You answered, your blush finally going away.

Sam stood up, and Dean followed suit. "What would you like?" Dean asked you, and you stared at them in confusion.

"I'm staying here?" You asked them, and they both nodded.

Dean was the one who explained to you. "We wanted you to have a chance to relax. We won't be gone very, and he won't attack you yet. But you have your knife and your salt to keep you safe."

You nodded, not sure you were happy with being left behind. But Dean gave you a confident wink before leaving the room, and you could only watch as they left the room. Grabbing the salt, you sat on the bed, waiting for the signs that a ghost might come. You knew you were being paranoid, but you couldn't help yourself. You hated being this nervous, but finding out you were the next victim had kind of freaked you out.

Minutes passed, and nothing happened. Calming down a little, you turned the TV on, settling on some sort of comedy. The sound lulling you, you closed your eyes, leaning against the headboard. With everything that had happened recently, you hadn't had the greatest night's sleep, and you were more than exhausted.

As you drifted to sleep, you felt the room slowly grow colder, and soon you were shivering, reaching for the blanket. It was then you came to with a start, knowing you were no longer alone.


	10. Warnings

Somehow, during the short amount of time that you had been asleep, the room had dropped at least ten degrees, and all the lights were off, including the TV you knew had been running. Shivering in your light shirt, you opened your eyes, you screeched when a pair of haunted blue eyes were staring straight down at you.

Scooting back in bed, your heart pounding so fast you thought it might explode from your chest, you glanced around the room, looking for your knife, or your container of salt. Both were across from you, laying on the edge of Sam's bed.

"What do you want?" You stuttered, your nerves getting the better of you. You were surprised to see her again. You tried edging your way towards the side of the bed, but she floated closer to you, her ethereal hand reaching out to you.

"He's coming for you. I warned you but you didn't listen." She said sadly as you felt the cold touch of her hand on your shoulder.

"But how? All you said was he wouldn't love me. How is that warning me?" You asked her.

She shimmered in and out of view, her touch moving from you, and you were relieved. "He will never love you. He never loved me. He just wants what everyone else has." She whispered, a tear falling down her cheek.

"Can't you stop him?" You pleaded with her. "He's hurting innocent people. Please."

She fluttered again, like a candle in the wind, before she disappeared, her words floating in the air. "He never loved me."

You wondered what the purpose of her visit was that time. She had said the same things over, but this time she seemed more sad, more reserved to her fate. She had at least warned you, but you hadn't needed that. You had already known you would be next, you just knew it was a matter of when, not if.

Still feeling a little unsettled from your ordeal with Anna, you climbed off of the bed, stumbling into the bathroom. Turning the faucet on, you ran some cold water over your face, letting the water soothe and relax you. Grabbing a towel, you started to pat your face dry when you felt the room grow cold. "Not again." You muttered, wishing she could just leave you alone for at least five minutes. "Please, can't you leave me alone. For a little bit at least?" You begged, removing the towel to glare at her. Through the flickering lights, you could just make out a shape, but it wasn't the one you had been used to seeing.

This shape was tall, taller than you. Squinting your eyes, you could make out the dark hair that was in a fancy pompadour style. He had a dark beard, and was wearing a fancy, black tux. "Andrew." You whispered, the realization of who it was enough to have you scrambling backwards, trying to get away from him. He was standing at the far side of the bathroom, near the bathtub, and you moved as fast as you could the other way, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. Of course there wasn't any iron in the bathroom, but you could just see the container of bath salts behind him on the ledge of the bathtub. Maybe, if you couldn't get out of the room you could get to them instead, they could work as well as regular salt. 

He took a step towards you, his form materializing more, and you could see why he had been so sought after during his time. He was very handsome, and held himself with a self assured air. "What do you want with me?" You asked him, as you tried to distract him. You were so terrified your hands were shaking, but you didn't want him to notice that. You wanted him to think that you were a brave woman, unafraid of a ghost.

"I picked you." He replied, his voice smooth and mellow. 

"For what? Cause I already have a man I'm interested in." You smarted off, reaching behind you to grab the handle of the door. Trying to turn it,you were ready to run, but your heart dropped when you found it locked. "No." You whispered, your bravado dropping when your realized you were locked into the small room with a murderous ghost.

"That's why. If you won't chose me, then you must die." He threatened, stepping closer just as you heard voices on the other side of the door.

"Y/N, are you in there? We're back with dinner." Dean's voice sounded from right next to the door.

"Help!" You screamed. "He's in here with me!"

Dean's voice must have prompted Andrew into action because he moved forward so fast that he was standing in front of you before you could blink. Ducking below him, you raced to the other side of the small bathroom, but his hand grasped your shoulder, stopping you from going anywhere. Screaming, you tried to reach the bath salt, the pounding on the door just barely reaching your ears. Andrew was surprisingly strong for a ghost, and he forced you to turn to face him. "Why? Why won't anyone choose me?" He asked, his hand lowering from your shoulder, moving down to where your heart lay beating furiously. 

"Please. You don't have to do this." You pleaded, as you heard Dean yelling from the other side of the door. Blindly reaching behind you, you gasped in pain as you felt a cold presence wrap itself around your heart, squeezing tight.

"I have no choice." He answered, his gaze on yours as you screamed out in pain. Grasping onto the bottle of bath salt, you popped the top, pouring it over him just as black spots filled your vision. You heard his ghoulish scream as the salt hit him in the face. "This isn't over!" He said before vanishing. The pain in your chest eased up, but you were unable to hold yourself up. As you felt yourself falling to the ground, the door crashed open and Dean came rushing in. His face went pale as he saw you wavering. The last thing you remembered was feeling his arms wrap around you before you knew no more.


	11. First Fight

You automatically tried to turn your head away, annoyed with the constant tapping on your cheek. "Come on sweetheart. Wake up, please." You heard Dean's voice say from right next to your ear.

"Leave me alone." You muttered, still tired and sore and wanting to sleep.

"I can't do that." Dean said, but you felt his hand stop tapping your cheek. Instead you could feel his rough, callused hand gentle cupping it, and you turned into the touch, slightly opening your eyes.

"There you are. You had us worried." He said, his voice much softer and gentler than you had ever heard. His green eyes were close to yours, full of concern for your well being.

Groaning, you placed your hands on the bed, trying to push yourself into a sitting position. Moving his hand, he helped you up, before handing you a glass of water. Giving yourself a minute to get used to being upright, you looked around, noticing that Sam was sitting on the edge of the other bed. He had his elbows on his knees, his gaze on you.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Sam asked you.

It took a minute to wrack your head, a head that was still pounding. "It's still all kind of fuzzy." You started, and Dean placed a hand on your shoulder, comforting you.

"It's alright. You don't have to tell us yet." He told you, before glaring at Sam.

"No, it's all right." You said, but you were grateful for the warmth of his hand on your shoulder, and you unconsciously leaned towards his touch. He noticed, and he slid onto the bed, before pulling you to him, letting you rest against his chest. "Anna came and visited me first. The same thing, he will never love me. She said it was too late. I tried to get her help, but she wouldn't."

"Then what?" Sam asked you, ignoring his brother's pointed look.

"Then, I decided to go into the bathroom, and while I was in there, he came." You said, feeling Dean's arm tighten around you.

"Him? You mean Adam?" He confirmed, and you nodded, leaning closer to his touch.

"Yeah, he was just standing there at first. He was handsome, but had an evilness to his eyes. He told me he picked me." You said, shivering as you remembered the dead glint in his eyes.

"He picked you? What does that mean?" Sam asked as he stood up, and began pacing the room. Dean stayed next to you, his grip tightening on you once again, and you looked up to see his green eyes clouded with anger.

"He never explained. But when I said no, he said I had to die. He had a grip on my heart when you guys showed back up." You explained.

"What stopped him?" Dean asked, rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

"Bath salts." You answered, watching as they both stared incredulously.

You could feel Dean's chuckle before you heard it. It shook his entire body, and soon his head was thrown back as he laughed hard. "Bath salts? I never would have imagined it."

"Well they worked." You said, sticking up for yourself, feeling a little foolish.

"I never would have thought to use them. Guess we have a chance to make a hunter out of you yet." Dean said, patting you on the shoulder.

"So now what? He came, before we were ready. We need to have him occupied so one of us can go down there and salt and burn his cigarette case. Now we need to come up with a different plan." Sam said as he paced.

"Sam." You started, but he kept talking over you, arguing with his brother about what they were going to do next. "Guys!" You yelled, and they both stopped to look at you.

"I think our plan will still work." You said, as they both stared at you. "He said he wasn't finished. I think he will be back for me."

Dean glanced down at you, and he was so close you could notice the slight eye crinkles he had, and they made him even more handsome. "Why didn't you say so."

"That's perfect! We go on with our plan, and this should all be over with tonight!" Sam said, clapping his hands together.

You and Sam were too busy celebrating the fact that your plan was back on that you hadn't noticed how quiet Dean had gotten. "No." He said, and you had to look up at him, not sure you heard him correctly.

"What?" You asked, a little uneasy when he removed his arm from your shoulder and slid off of the bed. He went and stood next to his brother his arms crossed.

"I said no. We aren't going through with the plan. We will figure something else out." He said, his tone saying that he wasn't going to argue about it. But you had other plans.

"Why? This is the best plan we have. We know he's going to come after me, it's perfect!" You argued, seeing Sam staring at his brother with a confused look on his face.

"I don't care. I don't want you in harms way. He almost got you once, and I don't want it to happen again!" He said, and if you weren't so annoyed you would have laughed at how childlike his anger was.

"But Dean..." You started, but he cut you off.

"We will leave. Now. Get you into another motel a long way from here. Sam and I will come back, burn the cigarette case, then come back and get you." He said, turning to head towards the door, no doubt making his way to your room to pack for you.

It was your turn this time. "No." You answered him, crossing your arms.

"What?" He said, turning around, and you took a step back, a little afraid of the serious expression on his face.

"I'm not going to run. This is the most I've ever felt alive, and I want to help." You argued.

"I can't see you getting hurt." He said, his expression turning soft as he took a step towards you. "I'm sorry, but this isn't a discussion. The decision has been made." 

You took a couple of steps closer, acting as if you were starting to agree with him. Placing your hand on his cheek, you smiled up at him. "I know you're just trying to keep me safe. But I don't want you to keep me safe. I want you to let me help. And if you won't, then I will do this on my own. Or with help from Sam." You said, and took a step past him. "Sam, I will be in my room. Let's stick as close to the plan as possible." You said, grabbing your container of salt and your knife, leaving the room and heading towards yours.


	12. Frown

You expected Dean to follow you as you stomped loudly on the way to your room. Fumbling with your key, you kept an eye to the side, waiting to see Dean come striding over to you, yelling and pulling you back to your room.

He did come out of the room, slamming the door behind him. But what you didn't expect was the fact that he turned the other way, his long legs striding down the hallway, before shoving open the door that led to the stairs. Not once did he turn back to look at you, and with a sob stuck in your throat, you finally were able to open your door. Slamming it behind you, you leaned up against it. In a way you were disappointed. Disappointed in yourself that you didn't handle your argument with Dean better. Frustrated that he didn't trust you enough to let you ride this one out. But you also felt your heart fluttering at the thought that he cared enough about you that he wanted to protect you, and keep you safe.

Wondering how the rest of the evening would go, if Andrew would make another attempt tonight, you paced your room, nervous and uneasy. For every step you took, you wanted to take another one, back to Dean, and apologize for not taking his offer. You hated this, the waiting, the wondering. But it was worse when you were alone, with only your imagination to make things worse. 

Feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pulled it out, seeing Sam's name pop up on the screen. "Yeah?" You asked him, wondering why he didn't just walk down the hallway, and knock on your door.

"Is Dean with you?" He asked, a little concern lacing his words.

"No, I saw him take the stairs earlier." You answered him. "Do you want me to come over?"

You heard him sigh, and even though you were just getting to know him, you pictured him using his hand to brush his hair back from his face. "No, I just... I wanted to start with the plan." He muttered. "I just wanted to make sure he was up here, to make sure things with you didn't go south."

"Sam, I get why he's mad, but it isn't like him to just walk away from a job, isn't it? He will come back." You told him, trying to convince yourself as much as Sam.

"Maybe we should forget about trying to do this tonight. Wait until we are all on the same page, and try again tomorrow." Sam started to say, but you stopped him.

"No, we can't do that. If we wait, he might target someone else. And I don't want anyone else to die. Please." You pleaded.

You heard him sigh, and you knew you had one. "Fine, but make a circle of salt so you can stay inside of it. Keep your phone with you, and call me at the slightest thing. Hopefully Dean will be back soon, and he can stick around to keep you safe."

You nodded, then laughed when you realized he couldn't see you. "Of course. But Sam, please be careful." 

He chuckled slightly. "We should be telling you that. I hate to say it, but you might make a hunter yet."

You smiled at the admission. "But why would you hate to say it?" You asked.

"Because I hate seeing people getting into this life. Because it sucks the life, and hopefulness out of you. And I don't want to see that happen to you." He said sadly. "But, I know you have feelings for Dean, and I have a feeling you will follow him to the ends of the Earth if need be. But for now, I need to go and try to stop this ghost from killing more people."

He hung up, and you pocketed your phone, before grabbing your container of salt. Glancing around the room, you found the widest spot in the room, making a circle with the salt that was just big enough for you to stand in, using all of your salt. 

Now it was just time to wait. Shivering, you weren't sure if it was from fear or the cold that was currently seeping into your room. You kept turning in a circle, scared that Andrew was going to catch you off guard. You stayed inside your circle, just as you had promised Sam, but soon your bladder got the better of you, and you felt yourself dancing in the circle.

"Damn it." You cussed, knowing you weren't going to last much longer before your bladder would burst. Frustrated beyond belief, you stepped over the salt line, freezing as you waited for Andrew to come and get you. When the lights didn't flash, and the room didn't grow any colder, you breathed a sigh of relief. Rushing into the bathroom, you quickly did your business, your body tense to run at any moment. 

Feeling foolish for being so nervous and scared, you walked right back into your room, heading straight for your salt circle. But you stopped at the threshold of the bathroom, noticing instantly that something wasn't right. The lights were completely off, no flickering, no slight burn, nothing. You felt goose bumps start to rise across your skin. During your absence the room had grown considerably colder, and if you had been able to see, you would have seen the breath escaping your mouth in puffs.

"Did you miss me?" Andrew's voice rang from inside the room, but you weren't sure where. You were frozen to the spot, needing to rush to your salt circle, but knowing if you did you might run straight to him.

Deciding that playing along was your only choice, you nodded, knowing that as a ghost he would be able to see it.

"Good. Now come here." He ordered you.

Your heart in your throat, you took a hesitant step forward before stopping. "Please. Andrew, can you turn on a light. I don't want to hurt myself."

"Of course my dear." He answered you, and within seconds the light at the far end of the room shone brightly, illuminating the small room. He was standing near the windows, his hands placed behind his back, his legs spread slightly apart. Your salt circle was between you and him, and if you followed his lead, you might be able to step inside it before he realized your intentions.

"Thank you." You answered, your voice trembling.

He stayed where he was, his dark gaze heavy on you. "I told you I would come back. Did you change your mind? Did you choose me?" 

Your chest heaving, you took another short step closer to him, broken between wanting to try to rush out the door, or stepping into the safety of the circle. You knew you needed to distract him as long as possible, but you weren't sure you were brave enough.

"I believed you. Yes I did change my mind." You told him, wondering what you were getting yourself into.

Another step, then another. You were slowly getting closer to the salt circle, but it still seemed a mile away. Your knees almost buckled at one point, and you had to stop to catch your breath.

"Good. Does that mean you choose me?" He asked again, a smirk turning his face sinister in the glow of the lamp.

You weren't sure you wanted to answer that question. You brought your gaze down, looking straight at the circle, knowing you could reach it within two steps. But before you could do anything, Dean's voice rang out from behind the door, startling both you and Andrew. "Y/N, are you okay? The doors locked! Is Andrew in there with you?"

"You would never choose me!" Andrew yelled, Dean's voice angering him. He noticed where your gaze was, and with a flick of his hand, the windows behind him opened, and the breeze blew in, blowing the salt across the floor ruining your circle.

"Dean!" You screamed, trying to move backwards, but tripping over the leg of the desk. 

"Y/N, get in the salt circle!" He yelled, and you could hear him banging on the door, trying to break it down.

"Little too late for that!" You exclaimed, standing up. Your body sore from your fall, it took you a moment to straighten all the way up, and when you did you felt the breath rush out in one whoosh. A pair of dark eyes met yours, just inches away. Andrew was standing right in front of you, his evil smirk turned into a glorious frown, one that did not bode well for you at all. "Oh shit." You muttered, knowing you were screwed.


	13. Unlikely Help

You watched as Andrew reached out, his very real looking hand moving towards you, and you could do nothing but wait for the impact. For him to wrap his lifeless fingers around your heart, squeezing until it gave out on you.

You could vaguely hear the pounding of Dean's hands against your door, but you couldn't call out to him, to tell him that in this short amount of time you had fallen for him. You wished you had had the chance to make things right with him, to let him know that you understood where he was coming from. You wished that you had more time to spend with him, that you weren't taken away so early in your relationship.

"I'm sorry my dear." Andrew said, before wrapping his fingers around your neck, squeezing tight, but not tight enough to take your breath completely away. "But I think we are going to have to do things a little differently today."

You could feel yourself being moved, pushed backwards forcefully by the hand wrapped around your neck. Struggling not to fall, you tried to wrap your hands around his arms, to give yourself some sort of stability. Instead of connecting with solid muscle, your hands slipped through, throwing you off enough that you started falling backwards to the floor. But before you could fall too far, his grip tightened, holding you up tightly, your feet no longer touching the floor. 

He turned you, so he was now standing between you and the door, a wicked glint in his eyes. With a flick of his other hand, you heard the click of the lock of the door, and within seconds Dean was stumbling into the room. 

"What the...?" Dean stuttered, trying to catch himself before he fell onto the floor. "Y/N?" He said just as the door slammed shut behind him.

"She's a little preoccupied." Andrew said, squeezing your neck tighter, causing you to let out a choked moan.

It was then Dean noticed what was going on in the room. His stance turned from confused to that of a hunter instantly, ever sense going on high alert. "Y/N! Let her go damn it!" Dean yelled, stepping forward, but freezing when Andrew lifted you higher in the air.

"Oh, I don't think so." Andrew announced. "I've decided I want to make this a little more interesting."

You thought you heard Dean mutter something about Sammy, but you weren't sure. You were too busy concentrating on the hand wrapped around your neck, and the black dots that were currently clouding your vision.

"Dean." You choked out, your voice hoarse.

"Don't worry Y/N, we will get you out of this." Dean promised you, but you could feel yourself slowly growing limp in Andrew's hold.

"Damn it, you're killing her!" Dean yelled, wanting to move forward, but not wanting to take the chance that Andrew would kill you right then and there.

You felt the hold on you lessen, just enough that you could struggle to get a breath or two in. "That's not my purpose. At least not yet. I want her to suffer first." He said, dropping you into the chair. Taking in big, gasping breaths, you tried to move out of the chair, but it was as if invisible rope was wrapped completely around you. You couldn't move, not even your hands. You could only watch as Andrew turned his attention to Dean, who had nothing to defend himself with.

"I know your brother is down there, trying to find my cigarette case. I know if he finds it I'm done for. And truthfully, I don't mind. But I need to do this one more thing before I'm gone. It's not enough that she's going to die. She needs to suffer too."

"Why? She hasn't done anything to you. Just let her go." Dean pleaded, and you fought against your bindings. You knew what Andrew meant, and you couldn't let that happen. You just wished that Sam would hurry up, and burn the damn case before anything happened to his brother.

"Because I can. Because I never got the girl I wanted. Well, the girl didn't matter, but the money did." He smarted off. 

"Then why are you going after all these girls?" Dean asked, trying to buy time. 

"Because nobody should have their happy endings." He said. "I didn't get what I wanted most, and because of it I ended my life. They should pay" Raising his arm up, he slammed Dean against the wall. With a flick of his finger, a long gash appeared on Dean's cheek, and you cried out in frustration. 

"No, please don't do this! Just kill me instead. Leave him alone!" You pleaded, tears pouring down your face as cut after cut appeared on Dean's skin. Dean stared at you, never giving Andrew the satisfaction of crying out. 

With Andrew's concentration on Dean, you could move your fingers, and you fought hard against the rest of your bindings, needing to get to Andrew and stop him before he killed Dean. 

"See? Isn't this worse than just dying?" Andrew asked, taking his attention off of Dean for a moment, turning to smile at you. Even though Dean was hurting, and bleeding profusely from multiple wounds, he shoved himself off of the wall, rushing Andrew. Andrew gave him a glance, before flicking his hand and Dean went crashing into the wall, falling down to the ground, unconscious. You gasped as you saw a thin line of blood trickle down his forehead.

"Please." You sobbed, tilting your head, tears falling freely down your face.

"I think that's enough." He said, moving towards you once again. "I think it's time for you to die. That way we can both be set free, together. I can sense it. The other one is close to burning my case." He said, before you felt the tight vice like grip on your heart once again.

You saw Dean struggle to get to his feet, and even though you were shaking with the pain shooting through your body, you felt a little bit of relief that Dean was still alive. 

He rolled his head to the side, his pain filled eyes gazing upon the scen in front of him. You could see him open his mouth, ready to yell at Andrew, but you used up what precious little energy you had left to shake your head. You didn't want Andrew knowing that Dean was up and fighting again. You knew if he saw him, that he would kill him this time.

Instead you gave him a sad smile, just as the grip tightened on your heart. "Almost there." Andrew said, almost lovingly. 

"Leave her alone!" A familiar voice shouted from behind him, and in your pain induced haze you saw Anna standing behind him, her white gown and long dark hair flowing behind her. Her face was full of hate and anger, and she once again yelled at him. "Stop it!"

The pain diminished, just a tiny little bit, as his attention turned from you to her. "Anna?" He said, as if he couldn't believe she was truly there.

"You need to stop hurting people." She told him.

"I can't." He answered, and once again his grip on your heart tightened, and you felt yourself fading away. As the pain became too much to bear, you saw Anna rush forward, screaming an inhuman scream before she collided with Andrew. The room erupted in a flash of bright light, so bright you closed your eyes for a moment.

When you opened them, Anna and Andrew were no where to be seen, and Dean was struggling to come towards you. Free from the bindings, you tried to stand, to go to Dean, but your legs collapsed underneath you, and you fell to the ground, your vision going black as you passed out from pain that was still radiating through your body.


	14. Miraculous

As you passed in and out of consciousness, you heard Dean as he stumbled towards you, before falling down on his knees beside your body that wouldn't fall any of your orders. "Y/N." You heard him yell out, but you were so tired, still in so much pain that you couldn't answer, couldn't even move your little finger to let him know that you were there with him.

You felt his callused hands running along your body, looking for wounds, anything that would show where you were hurting. But it was useless, your pain was on the inside, where Andrew had had his hand wrapped tightly around your heart.

"Y/N, sweetheart, if you can hear me, please open your eyes." He pleaded, his fingers stopping as they reached your flushed cheeks. Straining to open them, you grew frustrated when they stayed close, as if someone had used super glue on your lashes. It was then you felt a drop on your forehead, then another, before your shoulders were gently lifted and you were wrapped in a warm pair of flannel covered arms.

Your body was rocked, back and forth, as Dean rested his head on top of yours. His hand moved move from your cheek, gently pressing against your neck, looking for a sign that you were still on Earth with him. You heard him muttering against your hair as he continued to slightly rock you in his arms. "Come on Y/N, fight. Please. There it is!" He said, his voice growing louder, and he must have found your pulse that was still sluggishly beating.

"Thank god." He exclaimed, leaning his head back down against yours, his arm wrapped tightly around you. Even though you were caught in the middle between consciousness and the unknown, you still reveled in the fact that you were being held in his arms.

You felt yourself growing a little weaker, a little more tired with each passing moment, and you wished you had enough energy to reach up, to slide your hand against his stubbled cheek, to give him one last smile to let him know how much he already meant to you. Instead you lay there, your body at odds with your mind.

"Dean!" You thought you heard Sam yell, and then you wondered if you were starting to imagine things. Sam was supposed to be in the library still.

"In here Sammy! Hurry!" Dean yelled, and if you hadn't been so weak you would have winced at the yell being so close to your ears.

You blacked out for a moment, losing your fight against consciousness. But when you suddenly came to, you felt yourself swinging, but held tightly against something warm and solid. It took you a moment, but then you realized you were being carried by someone. Once the familiar scent wafted your way, you knew it was Dean, with his uniqueness of gunpowder, motor oil, and musk.

You felt yourself gently being lowered, before you felt something soft and giving on your back. It was a bed. You weren't sure if it was in your room, or Dean's but you missed the warmth and the comfort that Dean's arms had provided.

The bed dipped, then you felt a wet washcloth being gently run over your face. "Sam, why won't she wake up? I didn't see any injuries." You heard Dean say from your left.

"I have no idea. But Dean, ghosts can do major injury on the inside. Things that don't show up on the outside. She could be internally bleeding and we would have no idea yet."

"So we just wait?" Dean asked, his voice showing his frustration.

"I'm sorry." You heard Sam sigh. "But Dean, we need to get you fixed up. You're still bleeding from multiple cuts."

"Not until she wakes up." Dean argued, and if you could get control of your muscles you would slap him. You didn't want him to bleed to death because of you.

You heard another sigh, and you figured it came from Sam again. "How about I get the supplies, work on you out here? That way you can keep an eye on her."

You weren't sure what happened next, but Dean shifted in the bed, and you could hear him hissing under his breath. "Damn it Dean, hold still." You heard Sam cuss, and you knew he must be stitching Dean's cuts up. You tried hard, struggling against the darkness that held you immobile, wanting to see how badly Dean was hurt. You wanted to be the one tending to his wounds. 

You fought so hard, you felt your eyelids flutter open, and you could just make out the back of Dean's blue and red flannel shirt as he struggled to remove it from his shoulders. He turned so he wouldn't hit you as one strong arm was revealed. Upon turning, he glanced down at you, a worried look on his turning into a jubilant one as he noticed your eyes were open.

"Y/N!" He exclaimed, his own cuts and bruises forgotten as he turned his attention completely on you.

You wanted to do more, to reach out and touch him, to speak and tell him that you were glad he was okay. But all you could do was a small smile, the effort of that costing you.

"Y/N, I'm so glad you're okay." He said, reaching out to touch your hand, but before he could, you felt your entire body stiffen up. The slight movement of your smile was too much for your battered heart, and you could feel it seize up. Your entire body stiffened, and you felt tears gather in your eyes at the pain. 

Dean must have noticed, because his smile fell away, and he came closer to you, his face inches from yours. "Y/N, what is it? What's wrong? Damn it Sammy, help me!" He said, as you took in a painful breath, before the pain was too much and you faded away, back into the frustrating blackness that wouldn't release it's hold on you.

_____________________________________________

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but you felt yourself slowly waking up once again. This time was much different than last time. There was no longer that excruciating pain that had wrapped itself around your heart. Your body no longer felt as if it was wrapped in cement. You felt perfectly fine, in fact even better than before you had come to the motel.

You were able to take deep, wonderfully deep breaths, each one free and easy. Your head didn't pound, and you reveled in the fact for a moment. But then you noticed, that while your body was no longer held immobile from pain, it was still difficult to move. You felt something heavy and warm wrapped tightly around your middle, spreading up and down your back. It was your own personal heating pad, and while it felt amazing, you really needed to get up and use the bathroom.

Opening your eyes, you slowly twisted to your side, careful not to upset the arms that were currently wrapped tight around you. It seemed like ages, but finally, you came face to face with a sleeping Dean. He was pressed tight up against you, one arm acting as your pillow while the other had snuck under your shirt, and you shivered at the touch of skin on skin.

You took the time to study a sleeping Dean. His eyelashes were longer than you had thought, with his eyes closed they brushed the top of his cheeks, a dark fluttering fullness of eyelashes. He lips were plump and even pinker than you remembered, slightly parted as he breathed deeply. You knew you could get lost trying to count all the freckles that were spattered across his nose and cheeks. He was a gorgeous man, but that was just the tip of the man. Once you looked past the nice physique, the tempting bow legs, and the handsome face, you came to a kind hearted man. One who would do anything for those he loved, and even those he hadn't met yet. 

Shaking yourself from your sickeningly sweet thoughts, you scooted back, trying to move out of his grasp. It was tougher than you imagined, and as soon as you gained an inch, he would grumble in his sleep, and move in closer.

What seemed like hours later, you were finally free of his grasp, and you were standing at the side of the bed. You weren't sure what type of medicine they had given you, but it had done it's job. You felt amazing, as if the run in with the ghost had never happened. Thinking on it, you glanced back at Dean, wondering how all of his cuts had been miraculously healed.

Shaking your head, more than a little confused, you didn't pay any attention to where you were going. As you made your way to the bathroom, you ran into a hard chest. "Sorry Sam." You mumbled, not even looking up.

"It's alright. But I am not Sam." A deep, kind of hoarse voice said, and you looked up, into a pair of intense blue eyes. "Hello Y/N."


	15. Decisions

"I'm not Sam." The rough voice said, and you stared up into a pair of blue eyes. You had never seen eyes that shade of blue, they were so bright, so vibrant, brighter than the summer sky in Colorado. You were hypnotized by them at first, but then reality started to sink in. That's when it hit you, there was a strange man in the room. Your heart started beating a little faster, and you were ready to run, or fight, wondering if this was another ghost that you needed to get rid of.

Without thinking, you reached forward, pushing him with all your might, before rushing towards the table where Sam and Dean's hoard of weapons lay. Grabbing the shotgun, you pointed at the man who didn't seemed phased by your push at all.

By this time Dean was slowly waking up, his eyes still foggy from sleep. "Dean!" You yelled, jolting him awake the rest of the way, Just as Sam came out of the bathroom.

"Huh, what?" Dean asked, moving fast, climbing out of bed.

"Him! There's a strange guy in the room!" You exclaimed, and watched as Dean looked at the guy, then shrugged.

"Well, he is weird, but you don't have to worry about him." Dean explained, yawning.

Sam patted the strange man on the shoulder, before walking past him. "Y/N, meet Cas. He's the Angel that healed you." Dean said, coming to stand beside you.

"Angel? As in heavenly Angel, or you really have a thing for him?" You asked, really hoping it was the first even though you weren't sure you were ready to meet another Supernatural being yet.

Sam chuckled, earning a glare from Dean. "I'm a true Angel. And it's a pleasure to meet you Y/N. I'm glad I was able to be of assistance and heal you. Your heart was in pretty bad shape." Cas told you.

"Thank you." Was all you could mutter. Cas wasn't exactly what you expected an Angel to look like, but then again you figured they couldn't walk around humans in togas and their wings spread out.

Dean pulled you to the side of the bed, pushing you down until you were sitting. He then joined you, sitting close enough that your knees were touching. Taking your hand in his, you felt a slight spark as his skin touched yours. "You weren't doing very good." He started. "You were in and out of consciousness, but you were losing the fight. It was killing me, and I couldn't lose you. So I prayed to Cas and he came and healed you."

"So you just prayed to any ole Angel? Did you know they exist beforehand?" You asked curiously.

"No, Cas and I go way back. He's helped me out a bunch." Dean answered, as Sam and Cas came to stand in front of you.

"Listen, I would like to learn more, and talk. But I have no idea how long I was out, so I would really like a shower and to use the bathroom." You told Dean.

He let go of your hand, nodding his head. "Of course. Why don't you go clean up while Sam and Cast go get us breakfast."

"Is it alright if I just use your bathroom?" You asked Dean, and he nodded.

"That's for the best. While you were out, we moved your stuff over here anyways. They told us your reservation was over anyways." He explained.

It was then you noticed your suitcase sitting next to the TV cabinet. Grabbing it, you moved to the bathroom, smiling at the words Dean threw your way. "I'll be out here while Sam's gone. You have nothing to be afraid of."

Closing the door, you leaned against it, grateful for the alone time. Your thoughts were all in a jumble and it was nice to have a little piece and quiet to sort them out.

You weren't sure how long you had been out, but from what Dean said it was at least two days. Your memories were fuzzing, ending right after Andrew had his hand gripped tight around your heart, and Dean was laying on the floor.

Slipping out of the old shirt you had on, you noticed there were no lingering effects from the ghost. Your body was healthy looking, even your smallest scar now gone.

As you stepped into the shower, you shook your head, in awe of the power the Angel Cas held. You had never believed that magical healing existed but you had been wrong.

As you scrubbed your body clean, you thought about how much your life had changed in less than a week. Two weeks ago, you had a boring job, a boss that was a little too pushy, and no idea where to go from there. One week ago you were travelling by yourself, with no job, and still no idea. And now, here you were. Your mindset had changed tremendously, you know believed that monsters were real, and had helped fight them. You had quickly fallen for a certain green eyed hunter, and his boyish but deadly personality. 

But you still had no idea where to go from. Would you just be another in his long line of conquests that you were sure he had? Would he give you a kiss, promise to call, and then you would never see him again? Or maybe, he would give you the chance to go with them, to learn the life of a hunter. But is that what you really wanted?

Climbing out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around yourself, and started towel drying your hair when you heard an argument in the room. Leaning against the door, you wanted to make sure that there wasn't a ghost or something they were dealing with.

But what you heard wasn't what you expected. For a moment you felt as if Andrew was back, and he had a grip once again around your heart. You couldn't breathe, and you felt tears start to pool up in your eyes.

"Damn it Sammy, do you think I want her with us? Of course not! She's sweet, and kind. She's not meant for the life of a hunter. I would rather see her a million miles away than to be stuck hunting with us!" Dean told his brother, you could just make out the words.

Stepping back, you decided not to listen to the rest. You had heard enough. At least this let you know where you stood, and what your next move was. The sad thing. If he had just asked, you would have followed him anywhere. Even in the tough life of a hunter.


	16. Hurt

You stood there, dripping wet, shivering as you wondered what to do next. You could pretend you hadn't heard anything, acting as if everything was okay. Just to spend your last few moments with him before he left you behind with the trash.

But in your heart you knew you couldn't do that. No matter how much you wanted to pretend everything was okay, you sucked at acting. You knew the moment you went back out into that room, you would look at Dean, and he would notice something was wrong. 

Not knowing what to do, you sniffed back the tears, hoping things would look a little better once you were dressed, with make up being your armor.

You ruffled through your bag, finally settling on a simple, but classic summer dress you had packed. You weren't usually the type of girl to pick dresses over jeans. But you wanted to look your best, to make Dean see what he was tossing away. It was pure white, something you tried to stay away from, due to your somewhat clumsy nature. But your Mom had forced you to pack this one, saying the white went wonderfully with your skin tone. It had slender straps above a sweetheart bodice, that flowed down to just above your knees. You had to admit it was beautiful, and it gave you a sense of confidence you were currently missing.

You fluffed your hair out, letting it dry in waves across your shoulders, before applying some make up to hide the fact that you had been crying. Glancing into the mirror, it seemed like a stranger was staring back at you. Gone was the every day simple girl who dressed in ripped jeans and t-shirts. In her place was a broken woman, a woman trying to hide behind her appearance. You didn't like it, but you weren't sure what else to do.

"Y/N, are you ever going to leave there? Your breakfast is getting cold!" Dean yelled from the other side of the door.

"Coming!" You yelled, amazed at how calm and collected your voice sounded. Because inside you felt as if you were shaking. As you had dressed, you had come up with a plan, a plan that had you shaking in your boots.

Grabbing your bag, you took a deep breath before opening the door. Stepping out, you dropped it near the door, before turning back towards the main part of the room. You could feel eyes on you, and raising your own you saw all three men staring at you. It was the gaze of one man in particular that you wanted. Dean was glancing up and down your body, his look hungry, as if he hadn't eaten in days and you were a nice slice of pie. His gaze powered your bravado, and you strutted towards him, your dress floating smoothly around your body.

"Wow Y/N, you look amazing." Sam complimented you, earning a glare from his brother.

"Thanks Sam." You replied, before leaning forward and taking your coffee from his hands. 

"Any special reason you're all dolled up?" Dean asked you, stepping closer, his tongue unconsciously slipping out and licking his bottom lip. You followed the movement, your throat drying up. 

"This thing? It was just one of the last things in my suitcase." You told him, which was partly true. You walked around him, perching on one of the chairs before grabbing a bagel from the container. 

Sam looked between you and Dean multiple times, a smile slowly growing on his face. "Listen Dean, Cas and I need to head downstairs for a minute. Check something out."

"We do?" Cas asked, not getting Sam's rather obvious hints.

"Come on." Sam ordered Cas, pulling him from the room. You chuckled as the guys left, amazed at how socially awkward Cas was.

"What are you laughing at?" Dean asked you, still standing in the same spot. It seemed like your outfit and demeanor had thrown him off of his game, and he wasn't sure what to do next.

"Your friend Cas. He seems like an interesting guy to be around." You told him, as he finally moved and came to sit in the chair next to you. Both of you took a sip of your coffees, the silence more than a little unnerving. 

"So about that." Dean started, as he set his coffee down, and your heart immediately seized. Here it was. "I've been wondering. Where do you see this going?"

It hadn't been how you expected this conversation to start, but at least he was giving you a chance to speak for yourself. "I haven't thought about it too much. I just woke up for crying out loud. But I do know I've enjoyed my time with you, learning to hunt. If you would let me, I would like to do more, to learn more. To be close to you." You said, your heart shining in your eyes, hoping he could see how much you meant it.

He sighed, looking down at his hands, and your heart sank. "I was afraid you would say that. I didn't want to have to break it to you like this Y/N." He started. "But, I don't think that would work."

"Why not?" You argued, wanting him to see you would work hard for it.

"Because you are weak, and you would only get in our way. It would take forever to train you." He argued, and you sat up straighter, his words digging deep. 

"Fine, then I'll stay behind, doing research while you guys do the grunt work. I'm good at research." You pleaded, clenching your hands together when he shook his head.

"No. I just think it would be better, for everyone involved, if we just end it right now. It was fun while it lasted, but it didn't mean anything."

"What?? You can't mean that." You answered, but his words earlier came back to haunt you.

"I do. It was fun, and I'm sorry you were hurt, but you're better now. So why don't we say our goodbyes, and you can head back to your regular life."

You stood up, trying hard not to start crying again, the last of your resolve breaking. "Dean, are you doing this to protect me?" You asked him, staring hard at his face, checking for any signs that he was lying. That this was hurting him just as bad as it was hurting you. But he sat there calmly, staring at you.

"No. I wish I was. But in all reality, I'm done with you. I've grown bored, and I'm ready to move on." He told you, and that's when you had enough. Tears pouring down your cheeks, you turned grabbing your suitcase and your purse, heading towards the door.

Turning one last time, you saw Dean sitting there, watching you as you left. "I'm sorry Dean. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough for you. Guess I will never be good enough for anyone." You told him, before shutting the door behind you. Through your tears you missed the look of pain cross his face, or the way his hand clenched his paper coffee cup hard enough that it crushed under the pressure.

You tried to calm your breathing, tried to keep your tears at bay as you made your way down the stairs and into the main lobby. You didn't need to check out, they had already done that for you. You guessed Dean had been ready to get rid of you a long time ago. 

You were so lost in your pain, in your suffering, that it took Sam yelling your name multiple times before it finally registered.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" He asked you, grabbing your shoulders to stop you. "Is Dean okay?"

"Dean's just peachy." You muttered. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to leave."

Sam's face turned into one of frustration and annoyance. "Damn it Dean. I was hoping he wouldn't go through with it."

Hiccuping through your tears, you shrugged." Well, he did. It was nice knowing you Sam. I think we would have made really good friends." You told him, standing on tip toes to give him a hug. He hugged you back, tightly, and you relished in the touch for a moment.

"You have our numbers?" He asked you, and you nodded. "Don't hesitate to call, for anything. Promise me." 

You promised, grabbing your suitcase, once again making your way to the revolving doors, not ready to leave the new life you had made. Not ready to go back to the one you wanted to forget.


	17. Licking Your Wounds

One Week. Or seven days. 168 hours. That's how long it's been since you fled the hotel, leaving behind Sam, Dean, and your heart. Every tick on the clock a reminder of what could have been, what should have been. 

At first, you had been angry. With Dean for forcing you away, then at yourself for giving in, and running away. Once the tears had dried up, you knew that Dean was just trying to keep you safe. But that didn't make your heart hurt any less

Each night you lay awake, green eyes haunting your sleep, or visions of Andrew, and the near death experience he had provided. Each morning you woke, staring at the stranger that looked back at you in the mirror. One with dull unkempt hair, and black circles under her eyes from lack of a good night's sleep.

You kept telling yourself it was pathetic, getting so caught up in Dean. But it wasn't just him you were missing. It was the thrill of the adventure, the pride in finding out facts, and knowing you could help those in need. It had made you feel complete, and now that it had been so rudely taken from you, you were at a loss.

Your friends had called, curious and concerned. You had pushed them away, giving them excuses of a cold caught during travelling, and they had taken it surprisingly well. Leaving you alone, not a single one had come by to see if they could help. Your mom was travelling, always travelling. She sent you a text, saying she was in Portugal, and she hoped your excursion worked out, and you were back, and ready to settle down, find a husband. 

Even your old business had called, asking you to come back. Keeping your avenues open, you had asked for time to consider, which they had granted. But that was days ago, and you knew it was only a matter of time before you had to make a choice.

Yet, here you were, sitting on your couch, in the same clothes you had worn to bed. Your hair was thrown up in a bun, a bottle of whiskey sitting empty on the coffee table in front of you. Your phone was in your hand, and you kept staring down at the numbers, needing to push the call button, but knowing all you would get would be more heartbreak. 

Groaning at how pathetic you had come, you tossed your phone across the room, watching as it landed on the chair opposite you. It was frustrating. You wanted to know if he was hurting as bad as you were, or if he was already smooth talking another girl. You had thought Sam might at least text you, just to see if you were okay. But their lines had stayed silent, adding to your mixture of frustration, anger, and despair. It was not a good mix, especially served with a side of alcohol.

A knock on your door shook you out of your tired thoughts. You listened to it, your head cocked to the side, contemplating if you should answer it or not. You weren't sure you really wanted to. If you did you would have to come face to face with people again, and you weren't ready.

The knock sounded again, this time louder and more assured, and for a second your spirit rose, wondering, hoping, that maybe Dean had found out where you lived, and he had shown up, begging for your forgiveness.

The thought crashing through your mind, you raced over to the door, pulling it open, your chest heaving as you looked at the man standing on the other side of the door. But it wasn't the lean, tall body with bow legs and strong shoulders that you had been expecting. This man was short, around 5'7", with a receding hair line and a beer belly in beginning stages. He had a slimy smile on his face as he took in your short pajama shorts and cami top that you had slept in.

"Well if I had known you would have been this excited to see me, I would have come by a long time ago." Bill, your former boss said. You could only stare at him, your sleep deprived brain fuzzy, having a hard time accepting the fact that your pushy boss was standing on your threshold. "Aren't you going to let me in?" He asked you, pushing you polished shoe in past the door jam.

"Bill, today's not a good day." You say, wanting nothing more than to slam the door in his face. You remembered vividly the last time you had seen him, when he had you cornered in his office, his hands grabbing your butt as you tried to move past him. "I'm still not feeling very well."

He smile faded away, a scowl taking it's place. "You were waiting for someone else weren't you? That's why you opened the door so fast, and you're wearing that slutty little outfit."

"You should go." You repeated, trying to push the door shut, but his hand shot out, shoving it back open, knocking you back into the room in the process.

"I don't think so. Instead, I think we should finish what we started a couple of weeks ago. Then, you can get that promotion you wanted, and we will both be happy." He said, stalking you as you tried to back up and away from him.

"Leave now Bill, or I will call the cops." You threatened, and he just laughed.

"Who are they going to believe? You? Or me, a prominent manager of a publishing firm." He said, reaching out and grabbing your arm, painfully. You thrashed about, trying to break free, but his grasp was surprisingly strong, and he pulled you to him. You hit his chest with your free hand, trying to stop him, but he just laughed, grabbing it before pressing his lips to yours, tight enough that they dug into your teeth.

Closing your eyes, you were panicked. You had no idea what to do. Your phone was ten feet away, and nobody in the other apartments were home at this hour to hear you scream. But as your panicked thoughts overtook your mind, a pair of green eyes flashed in the darkness, reminding you to fight. That you were strong, you had taken down a ghost, and you could certainly take down a normal man.

Opening your mouth, Bill thought it was an invitation, but you used it to bite down on his lips, hard. He reared his head back, his lip bleeding. "You bitch!" He yelled, letting go of your hand to slap you hard across the face.

Your head snapping back with the force of his slap, you turned it back, staring at him as you lifted your knee up high, hitting him straight in the groin. 

He let go of you then, leaning over, trying to catch his breath. You darted past him, trying to reach your phone, then the door, but he reached out, grasping your ankle, and you fell, hard, your head hitting the corner of the coffee table. You tried to keep moving, blood trickling down from your temple, but he pulled you back, before turning you over so you were laying on your back.

"I think this just changed my game plan." He muttered, his eyes full of evil. He raised a hand, smiling as he brought it down, smashing it into your jaw. It knocked you senseless, and for a moment you could only lay there, as his fists pounded your body. Your vision was fuzzy, and you knew you might have a concussion, but that was the least of your problems. If you didn't fight back, and soon, you wouldn't have a chance to.

He laced one more punch to your face, right at your cheek, and your head snapped back. Moaning, you lay there as he got up, wandering into the kitchen. Struggling to your hands and knees, you crawled towards the chair, your phone shining like a beacon of hope. But before you could reach it, Bill was back, and in his hands was one of your knives. "I'm really sorry to do this. But you leave me no choice. If you hadn't of fought back, we could have had lots of fun. It would have been worth it for you. But I don't like your attitude, and I just don't think you're going to work out in our firm. In fact, I think you're position is going to be terminated."

It was then you knew that not only was he a perverted old man, but also a crazy one at that, one that was ready to kill you. Killing people probably gave him as much satisfaction as raping them, you thought to yourself, with one final push to grab your phone. It slipped out of your fingers, falling farther into the couch, as he grabbed your hair, pulling you back. "Now, how should we do this?" He asked, before taking the knife and slicing the straps of your shirt. Looking down greedily at your uncovered breasts, he took the knife, carving little cuts into the top of each one, and you winced, trying to move away. 

He just laughed, holding the knife up loosely, talking about who knows what. Seeing your only chance, you reached out, knocking the knife out of his hands. He looked down, surprised, letting go of your hair, and you pounced down, all of your bruises and cuts forgotten, getting the knife the only thing playing through your head. He tried to push you out of the way, but your hand was smaller, and you pulled the knife up, smiling as you won at least one little battle.

"Steve, I suggest you run, and go far far away, before I use this knife on you." You threatened. "And then I will call the police. Or better yet, my friends who have unique and effective ways for getting rid of scumbags like you."

Steve might have been acting brave the entire time, but seeing the knife in your hand, and the threat in your voice, he did the only thing he could think of. He ran, opening your door, before turning to look at you. "This isn't over." He promised, before vanishing out of sight.

As soon as he was gone, all your strength and energy fled your body, and you crumbled to the ground. Your multiple cuts were bleeding, and you were sure you had a couple of broken bones. Groaning, you slowly moved, the five feet to your chair seeming like miles and miles. It was with a heavy hand that you grabbed your phone, almost ready to pass out from the exhaustion and pain.

You knew immediately who you would dial. There were no ifs ands or buts. Pressing the button, you waited as it rang, hoping he wouldn't just ignore your call. Your eyes closed, your head resting against your chair, you waited. After five rings you had given up hope, but then he answered. "Y/N?" He asked, his voice quiet.

"Dean." You said, his name full of all of the pain you were currently feeling. He registered it immediately, his tone changing from careful to concerned.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" He asked, and you could hear Sam's voice muffled on the other end.

"Can you come here, please?" You begged, tears clogging your throat.

"Yeah, of course. We're on our way. But what happened?" He asked, and you could hear the engine of a car as it was pushed to it's limits.

As a cough came over you, you moaned at the pain it caused. "My boss. He came for me. I scared him off, but he might come back." You explained.

"Damn it. We're on our way. Hold on." He ordered, but you were so tired, the sleepless nights and the fight having drained you too much.

"Can't Dean. So sleepy." You told him, the phone slipping from your hand.


	18. Avoidance

Maybe it was the pounding headache, or the touch of someone's hand, but something made you wake up quickly, much too quickly for your liking. Sitting straight up in your bed, your sheets tangled around you, you caught both yourself and Dean off guard. Your already sore head connected with Dean's, causing you both to lean back and groan. 

Each of you rubbed your heads, both sore from the contact. You leaned back against your headboard, while Dean sat back in a chair that hadn't been by your bed earlier. As you rubbed away the pain, you closed your eyes, trying to remember why Dean would even be here, in your room, and back in your life.

You remembered your boss coming over, trying to force himself on you. It had been one of the scariest experiences in your life, even more so than when you had faced the ghost. You remembered fighting him off, getting hurt in the process and calling Dean. You weren't sure what you had said over the line, but it must have been enough to bring Dean running. But you didn't remember hanging the phone up, or waiting for him to arrive. You must have passed out from the pain and the exhaustion.

A pair of green eyes came into your line of sight, full of worry and concern. A pair of eyes so green it hurt, eyes that you never thought you would have seen again. "Y/N?" He said your name softly, reaching up to touch your cheek, but memories of his hurtful words swam into your head, and you leaned back away from his touch. You didn't miss the hurt look in his face, but after what he did to you, you didn't care.

You took a moment to look around, seeing that you were in your bedroom, the sunlight shining through partially closed blinds. Your room always comforted you, it was your favorite place to rest and relax. The walls were painted (favorite color), and the carpet on the floor was a light gray that was full and soft. You had a huge bookcase taking up one side of the room, with an armchair placed next to it. It was small, and cozy, even more so with Dean's large frame taking up a lot of room.

"Where's Sam?" You asked Dean when you didn't notice him in the room. Dean had pulled one of your dining room chairs into the room, and was currently leaning back against it. He looked a little worse for wear, his clothes wrinkled, with a little bit of blood on his gray and green flannel. His hair was standing on end, and his five o'clock shadow was turning into a full beard.

"He made me stay here. He went after the guy." Dean muttered, looking extremely frustrated and annoyed. It hurt your already shattered heart that Dean couldn't even stand to stay with you, to make sure you were okay after you were attacked. It made you wonder why he even came to your rescue in the first place.

"Well, I'm awake now so you can go join him." You told him, laying back down and turning on your side so he couldn't see the tears threatening to fall. You waited for him to leave, like you figured he would. Then you would let the tears fall, tears that you had thought wouldn't fall again. 

"Wait, Y/N, that isn't what I meant." He started, his voice full of frustration. "I wanted to be the one to strangle the son of a bitch."

"Nothings stopping you now. You can go join your brother, I'll be fine." You told him. "But you might not want to kill the bastard, he's human and you might have trouble getting away with that one."

"But we have ways." Dean said softly as he stood up. "If you say you're okay, then I am going to go help Sam."

"I'm fine." You told him, but it wasn't the truth. Your heart was hurting all over again, and you needed him to go so you could hurt in peace. You heard his feet shuffling, before you felt his hand lay heavy on your shoulder. You wanted to turn, to lean into the touch that you had come to love in such a short amount of time. But you didn't want him to see how much he still meant to you, to let him see exactly how bad he had hurt you.

"Y/N, as soon as we teach that bastard a lesson, I will be back. I think there are some things we need to talk about." He promised, but you stayed silent, your back still turned to him as you kept your eyes shut. You heard him sigh, rubbing your arm softly before stepping back and out of the room.

You heard him move about your living room, his voice soft and quiet. When you didn't hear your front door open, you became curious. Your heart break and sore body forgotten, you slipped out of bed, interested to hear what Dean was saying.

"Have you found the son of a bitch yet?" You heard Dean say, and you knew he was probably talking to Sam on the phone. You waited, your heart in your throat to hear Sam's answer. You didn't want to wish harm on anyone, but your old boss deserved to be brought down a peg or two.

"Damn it, we need to find him." Dean said as you heard other sounds coming from your small living room. Your heart plummeted when you heard the news that Bill hadn't been found. It made you nervous, and scared, to know that he was still running around, and that he could make his way back here at any moment.

"Yeah I know we decided it was best not to leave her alone. But it doesn't feel right, staying behind, letting you go after the bastard. Especially now that you couldn't find him." He paused, and you almost pushed open the door you were listening so hard. "Yeah, she's awake. But she doesn't want anything to do with me. And I don't blame her. I was a complete dick. Maybe you should get back here, and we can get out of her life. I'm not sure he will come after her again."

You couldn't see Dean's face, but his voice seemed to portray hurt and sadness which confused you. What would he have to be confused about? He was the one who tossed you away like you didn't mean anything to him.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you hadn't heard Dean get off of the phone with Sam. But you did hear his footsteps as he came striding over to your door. You quietly rushed to your bed, climbing back into it, turning onto your side, pretending to have fallen back asleep.

But the footsteps stopped at your door, and your door didn't open. You waited for Dean to do something, to say something, but he stayed quiet. You were torn in two. You wanted to go out and talk to him, to try to make some sense of your conversation at the hotel. But your heart was still hurting, and you didn't want to open it up any farther.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry." You thought you heard him say through the door but you weren't sure. "I wish I could take all those words back. But I know I'm past the point of forgiveness."

You definitely heard the last, and without thinking, you stood up, out of bed, your pounding head forgotten as you threw the door open, surprising Dean. But before you could say anything, you looked past Dean's startled face, to the site of a bloody, very angry, Bill shoving your battered front door open.

Catching sight of your pale, terrified face, Dean's body tensed, going into hunters mode. "What is it?" He asked quietly.

"He's back." You said, just as Bill charged through the room, straight at Dean.


	19. Coming Together

"Dean!" You screamed as Bill came crashing through your room, heading straight for you and Dean. His lip was bruised, the cut coming open again as he smiled cruelly at you and Dean.

"So this is why you didn't want me to touch you. You're his slut." He said, just as Dean turned around, effectively placing you behind him and away from Bill's attack.

"You Son of a Bitch! Nobody calls Y/N that and lives to tell about it!" Dean growled, just as Bill reached him. Bill might have been bigger, and bulkier than Dean, but Dean had plenty of experience fighting things, and he had more agility. As Bill tried to tackle Dean, Dean reached out with one hand, shoving the older man into the wall.

"Y/N, stay in your room." Dean ordered, before striding over to where a startled Bill was shaking his head. Leaning down, he picked Bill up by the collar, before slamming his fist into Bill's face. Over and over again, Dean punched Bill, until his face was beaten to a bloody pulp.

Coming out of your room, you carefully moved to Dean's side. "Dean, stop! He's gotten the message. He's not worth it." You told him, but it was your gentle touch on his shoulder that had Dean dropping Bill to the floor.

"Get out of here. And if you ever come close to Y/N, you won't be so lucky next time. Do you understand me?" Dean growled, and Bill nodded, cowering in fear. You didn't blame him. You had never seen Dean so angry, so malicious, his face in a furious frown as he stared down at the beaten man.

"She isn't worth it anyways." Bill muttered, before running out of the room.

Dean turned to you, before crushing you into his arms. Everything seemed to melt away, his words at the hotel, your pain and fear caused by Bill. Nothing mattered except being in Dean's arms, both of you comforting each other.

It could have been hours, or moments later, you weren't sure, before Dean was pulling away from you. It was then you were finally able to glance around your small apartment, wincing at all the damage both fights had caused. 

Almost every piece of furniture you owned was broken, or sliced, or smashed beyond recognition. Your door was hanging off it's hooks, and a confused Sam stood in the door frame. Dean noticed where your attention had gone, and he noticed his brother standing there.

"I..um...I saw her boss leaving here. He looked pretty beaten up. Do you want me to follow him?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "No, I think he learned his lesson. But you could help me and we could try to clean up Y/N's apartment."

Sam nodded, moving into the already cramped space, heading into the kitchen, no doubt looking for trash bags. "Leave it." You said, stopping him, and Dean who had just started to stand up and join his brother.

"What?" He asked you, as you carefully stood up, your body still sore in places. 

"Sam, can you give Dean and I a minute please?" You asked Sam, and he nodded, before heading back out the door.

As soon as he was gone, you sat down on the couch, the only piece of furniture that was still in one piece. "Listen Dean, thank you for coming to my rescue. You don't know how much it means to me. But you don't have to do anything else. I can clean up. You can head back on the road with your brother, and forget about me. I understand." You said, even though saying the words brought a pang to your chest.

"What? I...uh..." Dean stuttered, at a loss for words.

"Dean, I remember what you said back at the hotel. How could I forget." You said, the last bit under your breath. "And I'm glad you took time out to help me. But I'm not expecting any more."

Dean started pacing in front of you, kicking the broken lamp out of his way, as he ran his hand down his mouth, acting frustrated. Finally he stopped, right in front of you, pulling a battered chair over so he was eye level with you. "Y/N, about that conversation in the hotel. I want you to know that if I could take it all back, I would. In a heartbeat."

"Dean, I..." You started, but he stopped you.

"No Y/N, I just need you to listen right now. Please. Then you can talk all you want afterwards." He pleaded with you.

Nodding, you sat there waiting, your hands tightly clasped together, your heart beating furiously, waiting to hear what else he could hurt you with. It wasn't as if your heart wasn't already in a million pieces at his feet. What was the worst he could do.

"I've never felt as strongly for anyone, ever, as I felt for you. Besides Sammy, but he's family. And it scared me. I wasn't sure what to do, but seeing you almost die at the hands of that ghost. It made me realize I would rather push you away then see you get hurt because of my job. I could handle knowing you were out there, somewhere safe. But I couldn't handle knowing you might die, because of me." He told you, his eyes full of unshed tears, his voice cracking at the end. "But then, you were still hurt, and I wasn't here to protect you. I pushed you away, to keep you safe, and I failed at that."

"Dean..." You started, but you weren't sure what to say.

"Listen, I will understand if you want me to walk through that door, and out of your life. I was a complete jerk, and I don't deserve your forgiveness. But, if you think you can forgive me, maybe we can try to make this work." He told you, before looking down at his hands.

You couldn't believe how fragile, and how torn up Dean looked as he sat in front of you. A man who was usually strong, and so sure of himself and what he was doing, sat broken in front of you. Without a second thought, you slid off of the couch, sliding to your knees in front of him, before wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. At first you felt him tense up, surprised at your touch, but then he leaned into it, wrapping his arms as tightly around you as they would go.

His head came to rest on top of yours, and the two of you stayed that way, content in each other's arms. Then you pulled back, and looked up at him. "Dean, what you said to me back at the hotel, it hurt. I've spent the last week licking my wounds, hurting beyond belief. Thinking I wasn't good enough for you, that I was just another one of your stupid flings. And then Bill shows up, then you, and now my whole world is thrown upside down once again."

"I know, and I will do whatever you want, need me to do, to make it right. To make it up to you." He pleaded, his summer grass green eyes wide and apologetic. 

"I just need to know. Is this true? Are you saying this just because you feel bad that I got hurt again? Or is it because you truly care for me?" You asked.

"Y/N, I love you. I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you in that hotel lobby, and when we rode up in the elevator together. And I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I love you." He promised you.

"Okay." You answered simply, watching relief flash across his face. "I love you too Dean. But what do we do now?"

He stood up, pulling on your hand until you were standing with him. "Now, if you agree, we will pack up whatever you want, and you can come live with us in the bunker. Y/N, you'll make one hell of a hunter. That is, if you want to. If not, you can do whatever you want, I won't hold you back."

"I'd like that. It felt right, trying to help people, to save them from Monsters. I would like the chance to fight by your side." You told him.

He pulled you to him, in a tight hug. "How did I get so lucky to fall in love with such an amazing woman. Thank you so much for being understanding. I wouldn't have known what to do if you had kicked me out the door."

"Well, if you pull something like that again, I might. But how about for now you get your brother back up here, and help me pack. I can't wait to see your bunker." You said, excited at a chance at a new life with Dean by your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think that's where I'm going to end it! Hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!!


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